This morning, the magpie
took me out of my dream.
Squawking and stalking the grass
under the hydro
stand where the owl
sat, hooting, hotly seeking
a mate. I was not
anywhere in the west
at that moment, my
mind watching the smoulder
of a stump turning to ash
on the edge
of Lake Huron, in a village
that burned to ground.
This is what it is, this deep
immersion, the call
and answer of words, making
such captivating clamour, seeking
the string that holds
them together
to create a creature
with wings.
– Lauren Carter
Lauren, we three small poets in Orillia applauded this poem last night. I took it to our discussion, which these days is even more visit and eat than poetry. Thanks for this. Lovely.
Thanks, Sue. Miss you! Look forward to hopefully seeing you for tea this summer 🙂
Oh! Very nice! (“hotly seeking” and that entire third stanza…)
Thanks 🙂 This place is amazing for working…