Might as well begin the poeming. I’m super tired. We got a slight reprieve, in that we cancelled our first classes and got to sleep in enough to function, but I am still dog-tired after our night of laundry. I have to say that work felt great today. It is a nice feeling when I recognize so much effort put in by students and faculty alike. Working hard for our tight-knit community feels food. ha. Tight-nit. Sorry for the pun. Tired, remember. But, it does feel good when everyone busts hiney to get stuff done.
Tired teaching sometimes leads to strange avenues. Today I started teaching Saussure and ended class watching this:
1) why is the bear kept in the yard? 2) why is the fence so flimsy? I have no idea how that happened, that we watched that in class. But, What I do know is that I have to write a poem tonight, and I want it to go quickly. The only poetic thing I have in my brain is the goose that timeshared the osprey nest on the way to work. So.
Osprey Nest on River Road
They sit, not just working, but also watching down, alert to the ripples.
When they timeshare the aeries, do they make way for the ones whose wings ache the most?
The geese come first, in loyal duos, come to the roost for the fear that resounds, and the snares and kick drums that herald eggs.
They leave when the real watchers arrive. These birds know only one spectrum, that of tired and too tired for the hunt. Even with their feet of sharp carvings, they manage the hook. Only one flick of fin can instigate the dive from the tower. In the earliest hours, seen from below, the fish is a cool white breast,
hanging without a wriggle, on the spears of the most tested love.
The ingestion is nearly uninspiring, but for the scales.
A sleepy bird poem. Okay. Whatevs. Happy Thursday, poem people.