The Millennial Pedestrian

A Small Mountain in Connecticut

Glossy lacquered boomerang, the lake below
reflects the oblique morning sun. Two white V’s
from speeding motorboats incise its polished face.
Hills pile up around it, tweedy as a woven textile
spread in tumbled folds beneath a sky rinsed clean
by last night’s wind and rain. Above a turkey buzzard drifts,
still wings finding lift,
banking overhead in cool unhurried scrutiny.
The wind that lofts him sweeps straight up
in billows from the rock I stand on — my breath
becomes a part of that on which he moves.

Now his slow blue shadow crosses mine.
I start back downhill, chilled
although the sun’s still warm upon my back.

This entry was posted on Monday, September 10th, 2007.
It's part of the New Poems category.
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