Beaver Chew


Hot are the embers to my open eyes

Always as I await

grounded turkey’s looking for flight

fist-ed fiddle-heads and ferns, as they unleash their plight.

I await

methodical cow

browsing turtles.

I await for life to cross Shingle Camp Road.

Even though, infinitely, critical of how I am smitten…

I anticipate.

I listen.

Attempts are plain…

the beaver’s chew

the No-See- Um’s bleak journey for flowers…old and new.

I abide the noisy splendor of live free or die.

All creatures, great and small, renegades when movement collides.

No See Um’s? A minute bloodsucking insect, especially a biting midge.

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