A Man’s World
will be gentle and easy as breezes, and bountiful with blooms:
it will be bloodroot, fireweed, and trillium, sweet with marigold, brambles, thick
maple syrup, humidity, and desirous warm rain. Nights
will be dewy and star-lit in a man’s capacious world, earthworms churning
and a family of rabbits coming out to play. There will be thickets
and swamps nested with creatures: toads, muskrats, woodcock, towhee, lynx,
river otter, fox. In the pond, a minnow. In the field, a fawn. In the sky,
a hawk and six low clouds, miles deep, in the shapes of anything
my brother and I can imagine. Bright sun, work songs, daydreams, lemonade,
my father’s hug, all in this man’s world; in the sky, in the field, in the pond
of another man’s world, bombs come down, prayers go up. Children
run harder and faster in a man’s world. Faster and harder, they run.
Read “The Book of Birds,” a poem by Kimberly Ann Priest also published in Terrain.org.