the owls spoke Vietnamese.
I am not speaking metaphorically,
I’m telling you categorically,
The owls spoke – Vietnamese.
The air was a’crisp,
crickets and toads hushed
for this foreign refrain – repeated,
coded over the course of a butt,
over the breathy hum
of fans drying grain.
As far as what was divulged,
well, that is mine alone.
I just thought you should know,
I’m a long way from grown.
Image: Agto Nugroho on Unsplash
Devon, perhaps owls/birds do ‘speak’ differently in foreign lands given their unique surroundings. Or, perhaps it’s how a certain culture interprets their call. Nonetheless, your poetic achievement has the perfect flow and meter to enhance this pennings true meaning.
Thank you, Lance. I feel if we empty ourselves when alone and allow nature to speak to us, things are revealed that are ours to keep. But to do so, a childlike wonder, the beginner’s mind is necessary to hear what is on offer. D
A pleasure, Devon. Always childlike- our thought processes were so much clearer and unrestrained. Over time, our minds become clouded, muddled in judgment and interpretation.
Absolutely. It took quite some time to throw off those shackles, though the callouses remain as a reminder. But I suppose we reach an age, past ambition, past regret, when we realize what is and always was the most important part of being alive. D
Directly linked to our ‘younger’ past. Never forgetting what is important, shrugging off the excess burdens.
Yes, Lance. There will always be excess burdens, but the small joys are fleeting. If we do not celebrate them, these small joys, we have failed to realize our dignity, our humanity, that which frees the soul (oh I do hate that word) from the grit of simply getting by. D
Simply getting by would be tantamount to eventual failure of our being. Something as simple as looking at an old photograph can regenerate our need to get out of the doldrums.