Inertia of a Herd
Inertia of a Herd
hard earth
desert scratch
raisinettes or scat
we stalked tracks scouting
that expanse
of a landscape
the next small annex
of snow
our map
pointillist tag
that meadow
shag jacket
december’s hushed locomotive
body after body
some liberating the line
we could hear their nostrils flurry
blurring our bated breath
in kissed midwinter
little frost
less rain
old man’s beard fell
from the branch
like a wraith
softening the ground
the way all do
one day
Over New Year’s, we tracked a herd of elk that were migrating near my parents’ place — a radical exercise in attempted silence. Small patches of snow gave us away (crunch) and gave us a way (canvas).
On our way back from the meadow where we saw them, we passed a tree that was covered in beard lichen - something that I associate with home (wet), so I wasn’t expecting o see it in such a different climate. I got to thinking about us as a herd of our own, inertia, differences in dirt, etc.
Been thinking a lot about freedom of movement. This weekend we went to the new Seattle aquarium on the waterfront and before leaving went and visited the seals and otters at the old aquarium. Then, the next day, we went out to chill in Puget Sound and saw both seals and otters out in the wild. No real thoughts, just was an interesting juxtaposition to this elk experience, last year’s safari, etc. Had to turn it into a poem!
Currently enjoying:
Lots of John Prine
With Gratitude,
Really enjoy the familiar items that pop up here while following the herd — raisins, a coat — feels like it ties into the sense of home also experienced with the beard lichen in a dry climate.
Couldn’t help but think of “Lanny” by Max Porter when mentioning an old man’s beard in the wilderness with Dead Papa Toothwort.