Buzzards

. . . She said, "Once, I'd take walks
to the mowed fields at noon.
I'd lie on the dried, blond stalks
and hum my quiet tune
to the mowed fields. At noon,
I'd lie peaceful as death
and hum my quiet tune
under my cooling breath.
I'd lie peaceful, as death
gathered like ashes above me.
Under my cooling breath
I'd ask God, 'Who could love me,
gathered from ashes?' Above me
they'd wheel and fall, then rise.
I'd ask God who could love me,
and wait. But they were wise:
They'd wheel and fall, then rise.
I'd lie on the dried blond stalks
and wait. But they were wise,"
she said.
              "Once, I'd take walks . . ."

Copyright © 2005 Joshua Mehigan All rights reserved
from The Optimist
Ohio University Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission