prairie berry


I’m contemplating a bike ride
It’s 4:30 after the year’s first snowfall in Colorado.

Rather late in the day
And late in the year for both.
Still, as soon as the tiniest bit of
Asphalt finds the sun,
I slice through the final
Falling leaves on my
ion powered trike

It’s the only time I’m free of me
When I can feel the sky

My shadow casts long
Making me large as
sugar beet towers
I laugh at myself
Feeling so powerful

Fumbling in the growing chill
with my smart phone

To capture myself in the failing light
As a tornado of pelicans-
A swirling UFO
Torments a
Peregrine falcon.

Dipping low.
She seems to be searching for me

My wish for
Touch sensitive.
Gloves goes unheeded
The flock giggles its way south
Laughing at the falcon left behind
And I have no photographs to show for it.

prairie dogs have made a last
Fall cleaning.
bones of their long-dead
Brought to the surface
Outlined neatly
Like fossils or mummies.
Ribs aligned carefully
As if
Awaiting paleontology
Falcon is not interested in those long-dead

Perhaps it is their final wish
To be free,
finally feel sky.
Safe from her at last

Odd, I find these peculiarities interesting.
Prairie dogs honoring
By burying above ground.
Falcon missing my squeaking trike.

It’s what crazy people do in places like this
Where it snows 6 months of the year
And hails the remaining six

My battery is low.
And the sugar-
beat air is thick.
Falcon, feeling
leads me home free
In the growing dark.



tell me what you think. There's a spot for your name and email, but it isn't necessary when posting a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s