Wednesday, April 17, 2024

#NaPoWriMo 2024 day seventeen

Not every book is precious.
Not every book is helpful.
Not every book is a doorway.
Not every book is an anchor.
Not every book is a gift.
Not every book is an answer.
Not every book is necessary.
Not every book is a window.
Not every book is useful.
Not every book is yours.

Tuesday, April 16, 2024

#NaPoWriMo 2024 day sixteen

the character and pursuits
of the famous gentleman
--the name I desire--
(one of those gentlemen
that keep a lance
in the lance-rack,
an old buckler,
a lean hack,
a greyhound for coursing)
 
he made a brave figure
 
the age of this gentleman
was bordering on fifty;
he was of a hardy habit,
spare, gaunt-featured,
a very early riser and
a great sportsman
 
there is some difference of opinion
among the authors
(the subject)
 
from reasonable conjectures
it seems plain
he was called
 
this is of little importance to our tale;
it will be enough not to stray
from the truth
in the telling of it.

Monday, April 15, 2024

#NaPoWriMo 2024 day fifteen

Over a century ago the passenger pigeon was probably the most numerous bird in all the world; today it is extinct.

Incredible as it seems, it may have outnumbered all other birds in the United States combined—hundreds of species.

One authority, summing up the evidence, believes that in Audubon’s day there were nearly five billion passenger pigeons in the states of Kentucky, Ohio and Indiana alone!

From Newfoundland to Florida, early writers told of immense hordes.

The great columns in flight, extending for hundreds of miles, blotted out the sun and took as much as three days to pass.

Alexander Wilson, sometimes called the father of American ornithology, estimated a flock in Kentucky to contain 2,230,272,000 birds.

He considered this far below their actual numbers.

He reckoned that if each bird ate a half pint of acorns a day, their daily food consumption would be 17,424,000 bushels!

Similarly, Audubon estimated a flock near Louisville at 1,115,136,000 birds.

Accounts of the great roosts read like the tales of a romancer.

Trees broke under the weight of the pigeons; thousands of armed men slaughtered day and night and shipped countless barrels to the big cities where they rotted on the sidewalks for want of buyers.

The last immense nesting took place in Michigan in 1878.

During the next thirty years the remaining flocks dwindled until they were gone.

The last passenger pigeon in the world expired at the Cincinnati Zoo at 1:00 p.m. Central Standard Time, September 1, 1914.
 
it is difficult to imagine that
once the sky was so full that
now the sky is so empty
 
trees breaking under the weight
of all those hollowed bones
murmuring 

Saturday, April 13, 2024

#NaPoWriMo 2024 day thirteen

I
It was always looming in the background,
An unmoving thing
Anchored in my mind’s eye.

II
Base, face, peak—
In the stillness of the mountain
I prepared.

III
The mountain shifted over centuries.
There were so many stories.

IV
A man and a mountain
Can become one.
A woman and a mountain
Can become one.

V
There are choices:
The beauty of shelter
Or the beauty of exposure,
The wind whistling over the mountain
Or through the valley.

VI
Wind howled through the doorway,
Windows rattled.
The shadow of the mountain
Crossed over the threshold.
The light
Swallowed by shadow
Left traces of heat.

VII
O Travellers,
Why do you imagine all you need is time?
Do you not fear the mountain,
How it breaks the feet
Of all those who come to it?

VIII
I know noble ascents
And unanticipated retreats;
But I know, too,
The mountain has secrets
It will not share.

IX
When the mountain is out of sight
Its presence still sets itself
At the edge of your path.

X
At the sight of the mountain
In the half-light,
Even the bravest explorers
Grow faint.

XI
He crossed the Rockies
Under his own power.
Once, he feared
He mistook the shadows
He carried with him
For the weight of the mountains.

XII
The mountain never stops moving.
The mountain is an anchor.

XIII
The wind will always change.
Light would come
And light would go.
The mountain waited.
It would always wait.