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ray-zimmermanPoems
An old black vulture landed in a tree overlooking Chickamauga Creek; gave me a sidelong glance. I thought of Edward Abbey, critic of government agencies, professor and park ranger. Abbey is buried in an illegal grave; a cairn of stones covers his remains. His friends saw to his request, wrote on one stone, “Edward Abbey, no comment.” The nemesis of Glen Canyon Dam desired no memorial, got one anyway. He always said he’d come back as a vulture next time, just seemed fitting. I looked up into the oak, said, “Hey there Ed, looks like a good day for flying.” Abbey didn’t say a word just gave me that sidelong look, the old buzzard.
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Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 11:05 PM UTC
Reincarnation
An old black vulture landed in a tree overlooking Chickamauga Creek; gave me a sidelong glance. I thought of Edward Abbey, critic of government agencies, professor and park ranger. Abbey is buried in an illegal grave; a cairn of stones covers his remains. His friends saw to his request, wrote on one stone, “Edward Abbey, no comment.” The nemesis of Glen Canyon Dam desired no memorial, got one anyway. He always said he’d come back as a vulture next time, just seemed fitting. I looked up into the oak, said, “Hey there Ed, looks like a good day for flying.” Abbey didn’t say a word just gave me that sidelong look, the old buzzard.
Included in Southern Light: Twelve Contemporary Southern Authors. Recorded here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CFwG7ICi6AI
#nature#authors
ray-zimmerman
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ray-zimmerman
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 11:05 PM UTC
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