A Different Point of View

 

 

A Different Point Of View

 

the fallow field of dun and gray grasses

flattened by snow and heavy winter rain

erupts in gold wyethia and purple vetch -

the colors of royalty without the pomp.

 

the neighbors wonder why we don’t

fence this field and lease it for grazing -

a wasted resource in their eyes -

this unruly plot of land.

 

as the solitary white-tailed kite

hovers overhead scanning for rodents

in this wild green flush of late spring,

I tell the neighbors this is what we would miss:

 

nodding orbs of milkweed flowers

waiting for the return of monarchs

whose inner compass may bring them -

if we are lucky -

 

a palette of color that stuns the senses

as we wade, wet to the knees,

through a maze of spider silks

silvered with dew

 

the conifers, candled with new growth

gradually making a comeback,

that at some future time - not ours -

may return this field to forest.

 

  

Barbara Parchim

Barbara Parchim lives on a small farm in southwest Oregon that was originally homesteaded in the late 1800’s.   Retired from social work, she volunteered for many years at a wildlife rehabilitation and education facility caring for raptors and wolves.   She enjoys gardening, wilderness hiking and spending time with her dogs.   Her poems have appeared (or are forthcoming) in Cobra Lily, the Jefferson Journal, Turtle Island Quarterly and Windfall.