Odyssey for the Young in October

Odyssey for the Young in October

        

Memories of trips, tricks and triumphs have I,

but with not a bite to my name, I am devoid of new ideas.

I have watched the kids with a wearied weather eye ,

 as they dip stick-nets in the shallows,

open mouthed at each new discovery.,

hoping their wonder will rub off on me.

 

There is a breeze above.

 I can see the flicker,

 hear the rustle of  rusted leaves atop the oak and ash,

but below, as if in homage,

this small lake I fish is still, as am I.

 

Other offspring are floating black commas

punctuating my blank blue page of sky

above  the  tree-lined horizon.

 

From the eggs,

they have grown exponentially,

first follicled, then feathered

to  ride the air`s caress,

at once lifting and freeing them

at their whim.

 

Now, as  they migrate South overhead,

not darting and dashing like flies

nor the spurt of bees

but wheeling and swooping,

they wheeee and squeal

a fugue of rapturous raptor joy

 

to  turn the thermal from turmoil

into a twirling carousel

of  new ospreys

beginning an odyssey.

This old fisher waves them fare thee well.

 

 

 

Reviews

[barleygirl]

This is a vivid & dynamic way to show how seabirds frolic . . . this line is brilliantly-crafted: "Other offspring are floating black commas punctuating my blank blue page of sky" . . . I love how everything about this feels fresh & original, just like a big splash in my face! (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie