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Awe of Nature

by Ken Sanes

I canít accept
a world like this.
I canít accept
the bird on the road
that I was careful not to hit
with the wheels of my car
and, how, when I looked
in my rear view mirror,
I could see it stuck
on the pavement,
half-vertical, looking up.
I canít accept the fact
that it was looking up
at the moment of trauma
not long before death.
I canít accept the way a bird
that had just come into the world,
in an animal enclosure at the zoo,
fell from its nest and,
stranded on the ground,
called out in distress,
only to be scooped
into the mouth of a wolf.
I know the death of a bird
is a minor thing
and maybe I'm being maudlin
about something
that is natural and correct.
But I keep asking myself:
what is awe of nature
in the face of this
inability to accept?
I used to think it was
the light shimmering
on the surface of the water
when I sit by the lake
and the fresh green leaves
that come out in the spring.
But I canít accept the fact
that it was looking up
from its place in the road
to where it could no longer fly.
Was it waiting to be saved?
No, I canít accept
the light shimmering
on the surface of the water.
It is something that is just
beyond my ability to accept.


 


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