THE EBB

The long road makes slow curls

around the floor of the valley

on its way to the highway. This

morning’s leisurely ride past

precarious old houses with chickens

and dead cars in grassless yards

lets trouble ebb like a slow tide.

Kids scatter like tatterdemalion

flotsam in their rough clothes,

and wait.

On the other side is a new farm with bright

green machinery and smooth, plowed fields

for corn next to an ancient spring. The

Cherokee had been run off this land

two hundred years ago; their memory

preserved in the charcoal of fire rings and

arrowheads by the pockets full.

The near distance tries to hide

the bobcat and deer who cast their eyes

over their shoulders to watch me pass.

Once, a rabbit darted in front

of an oncoming pickup, and in a

slow motion instant, I saw exactly

the contact of head and shoulders

with iron. Funny how that burst of

of life has seared my imagination

for all these years, especially now,

when I can feel a slow motion ebb

of my own.

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

Impermanence seems to be the theme of this one, and the poet touches on it through a number of images. The Cherokee once lived on this land but were ousted. Now it is inhabited by people on the shallow end of the economic scale, although a new farm has been established. One wonders if it will be a success or follow the path of its rundown neighbors. In the final lines the death of a rabbit is described graphically, a testimony to the fragility of life. All things are changing, some more abruptly than others.

[Vol]

John,
And that rabbit is immortal because it is mentioned in this poem. The events described are from fifty years ago, and yes, nothing is the same... those kids are in their sixties, now.

[Lorry]

I wonder if the rabbits life flashed before it's eyes in slow motion, at least getting a quick greatest hits collection of its life, like a less sedate version of your memories played out as a slow motion ebb of your own.
At least we get a chair and hopefully a rocking chair, with a handily placed glass to reminisce our greatest hits Vol, as well as our greatest near misses. 😊

[Vol]

Ah, Lorry!
I love all those near misses! All those women who never gave me the pleasure, all those motorcycle near misses, all those bar fights I talked myself out of, all the money I lost a day late and a dollar short, all those nights in jail because somebody was praying, and of course, Viet Nam because my number was too high...but in the end, I still have a grand old story to tell... As they say here in Texas, Yippee kai yo kai yay! (Well, they don't really say that...)
Vol

[willweb]

Life, highways and byways, farms and fields, memoirs kept and new ones found and meaning, like shadows they come, some dart across open roads, some hide behind tall trees, though all have a theme all their own. Kind of Keller like here. I enjoyed this.

[Vol]

WW,
If we could just get a few more to pay attention...
Vol