Autumn in the Wings
Twigs’ lush medium is converting to
calligraphy, the dismissal of leaves
to launch its winter forewarning. Laden
with late acorns, squirrels chuck-chuck meaningless
menus, counter-balance full bellies, tails
unfurled. I am embracing—keepsaking--
the unscrolling calendar, harvesting
days tossed my way, the prodigious buffet
of nows. Hunters will crash this bash soon, but
until then it’s meals with jays, cranes, and crows.
—first published in Front Porch Review
Lakeside Bird Feeder, First Day
It should’ve taken only that scouting,
squawking jay to get the word out.
Framed in a pane, on a perch,
he was posed, a post card, puffed
against the brittle cold. His stylish
scarf feathers flicked an impatient face,
and his scruffy topknot signaled
who knew who in the neighborhood:
“Easy Supreme and SunflowerMélange
swinging free off this deck!” See, he’d need
some wirier guys to stir it up, to urge
the tiny silo to flowing so he could
swoop in, scoop out the run-off: “Anyone
game enough to give it a go?” But, no.
And now, not a single soul for supper.
Atop Mt. Harvard, May 1976, with Lines
from Thoreau and Major Jackson
You must ascend a mountain to learn
your relation to matter. —Henry David Thoreau
The summit served a feast. The West became
a banquet. When I’m in need, it feeds me.
That chalked terrain: peaks pleated, engraved, rock-
dished infinity, table cloth embossed
with white stitching of lingering snowpack.
I thought, How else might I conjure heaven?
My mind’s museumed, hammered facts, haloed
proofs, disturbed forever. Imagine them
clenching fists at infringement. They’d had god’s
kitchen’s niche: the jig was all but up.
—first published in The Ravens Perch
D.R. James, retired from nearly 40 years of teaching college writing, literature, and peace studies, lives, writes, and cycles with his psychotherapist wife in and around the woods near Saugatuck, Michigan. His latest of ten collections are Mobius Trip and Flip Requiem (Dos Madres Press, 2021, 2020), and his work has appeared internationally in a wide variety of anthologies and journals.
https://www.amazon.com/author/drjamesauthorpage
Twigs’ lush medium is converting to
calligraphy, the dismissal of leaves
to launch its winter forewarning. Laden
with late acorns, squirrels chuck-chuck meaningless
menus, counter-balance full bellies, tails
unfurled. I am embracing—keepsaking--
the unscrolling calendar, harvesting
days tossed my way, the prodigious buffet
of nows. Hunters will crash this bash soon, but
until then it’s meals with jays, cranes, and crows.
—first published in Front Porch Review
Lakeside Bird Feeder, First Day
It should’ve taken only that scouting,
squawking jay to get the word out.
Framed in a pane, on a perch,
he was posed, a post card, puffed
against the brittle cold. His stylish
scarf feathers flicked an impatient face,
and his scruffy topknot signaled
who knew who in the neighborhood:
“Easy Supreme and SunflowerMélange
swinging free off this deck!” See, he’d need
some wirier guys to stir it up, to urge
the tiny silo to flowing so he could
swoop in, scoop out the run-off: “Anyone
game enough to give it a go?” But, no.
And now, not a single soul for supper.
Atop Mt. Harvard, May 1976, with Lines
from Thoreau and Major Jackson
You must ascend a mountain to learn
your relation to matter. —Henry David Thoreau
The summit served a feast. The West became
a banquet. When I’m in need, it feeds me.
That chalked terrain: peaks pleated, engraved, rock-
dished infinity, table cloth embossed
with white stitching of lingering snowpack.
I thought, How else might I conjure heaven?
My mind’s museumed, hammered facts, haloed
proofs, disturbed forever. Imagine them
clenching fists at infringement. They’d had god’s
kitchen’s niche: the jig was all but up.
—first published in The Ravens Perch
D.R. James, retired from nearly 40 years of teaching college writing, literature, and peace studies, lives, writes, and cycles with his psychotherapist wife in and around the woods near Saugatuck, Michigan. His latest of ten collections are Mobius Trip and Flip Requiem (Dos Madres Press, 2021, 2020), and his work has appeared internationally in a wide variety of anthologies and journals.
https://www.amazon.com/author/drjamesauthorpage
