The wind blew gray and humid,
the Gulf thick over the prairie,
catching trash and leaves and pollen
and a lone scissor-tailed flycatcher,
the first to arrive this spring, suspended above
a crepe myrtle, his tail forked, balancing
on wind, navigating toward a perch.
It seemed those last few feet against the wind
became as significant a struggle as the journey
of thousands of miles flown between
Central America and this narrow limb.
Such it is to be in the moment
when attention is required:
the scale of the task
falls secondary to action.
In this way, we can reach the tree
no matter how far we’ve traveled,
and, like that bird,
we can leave if we want
without a second thought.
James Brush is a teacher and writer who lives in Austin, TX. He tries to get outside as much as possible.
James,
As always nicely done.
Pamela
Thanks, Pamela.
Distance, yes, but I also sense hope and freedom from the last stanza. I really like when you say
“Such it is to be in the moment
when attention is required:
the scale of the task
falls secondary to action.”
Most profound words, words which should inspire us to be our best, even when we think we no longer have it in us. A beautiful poem, James.
Heather, I think this was inspired by early napowrimo frustration, but baby steps, one at a time. Just like that bird. Thanks for your comment and I’m glad you caught the freedom part. That stanza kind of caught me by surprise.