A June Poem
This is a poem I wrote while attending Bonnie Buckingham’s workshop on Poetry at the Charlotte Mason Institute Conference in Roanoke, VA earlier this month. Thanks for a wonderful class, Bonnie!
River King: A Paean
Above the trees’ swaying limbs,
And sometimes through them,
Crows chase the hawk and kestrel
Away from roost and young.
But they meddle not with you.
We see you rarely;
Sometimes not for months or seasons.
Then, clutching a shimmering bass and
Dripping river water on our windshield,
You blur before us and curve about
On massive wings
To settle atop a poplar and feed.
The osprey thinks he is
Master of the dull moving
Current, spanned by bridge and limbs.
Until one heavy summer day
You fall on him and drive him
Away from the river and over
Our upturned faces, which had
Turned in wonder at the roar
Of your wings tearing the humid air.
Even at rest,
With wings gathered about you,
No fish in talon or adversary put to flight,
You rest in regal stoicism,
Turning your brilliant head away from us
As we stare up at you
Through a long hall of criss-crossing limbs.