© 2008 -- 2011 the Grandpa at The Word Mechanic. All rights reserved.

Friday, April 10, 2009

In the Park

The Brownies scramble past me in the park,
A swirl of laughter like a sudden wind,
& one holds up a whirlybird, then darts
& cries out “Seed!” the others closing in.
Pencils! Pencils! They all fall down.

Their bellies flat, their laughter spent, they mark
Their books & scramble on, & I am left behind
To wonder if these scramblings are a part
Of why these seeds have wings, or how the thin
Green seeds that burrow under ground can start
Becoming roots & bark & limbs.

I marvel that before the first trees sprung
A rhythm burst from space we can’t explain.
& when I watch the Brownies twirl among
The reeling notes of birds & play their games
Of turning over rocks to find out snails,
I marvel that the rhythm still prevails.

But then I pause. Aren’t I too old to wonder
At such things? I know that life sucks life
And so sucks mine. What are these Brownies wandering
Through the park to me? Redundant seed.
Noisy children fresh from their mothers’ breasts,
Shadows of their wombs. My own heart,
Knowing only that it with time must cease,
Makes me content to let these questions be.

Originally published in A Matter of Mind, Foothills Publishing, 2004.
© copyright 2004, 2009 the Grandpa at The Word Mechanic Blog.
All rights reserved.


  1. I really liked that and I am thinking that it will mean more as time passes.
    Very thoughtful.

  2. I was once a "Brownie", never made it to the Girl Scouts because we moved so much, and I lost interest in it. It was nice to be reminded about it. I really have to work on my poetry. I would also appreciate any helpful hints or criitques you have to offer. I am a fledgling in this field, but I think I am learning to love it.

    Thank you for visiting. I contacted the site and the flower pictures are back up. Sorry you missed yours. I hope you had fun.

    God bless.

  3. What amazes me with your poetry is the roller-coaster of emotion that your poems seem to hold. From the joy of birth to bitterness of death all in four short stanzas.

  4. The visual of the falling pencils is what grabbed me.

    Just remember, Brownies bring cookies which are good for eating all at once with big glasses of milk!

    All is not lost when you have some cookies. ;)

  5. In your poetic heart there is much depth and words that find their place with such concise beauty... a pleasure always, Grandpa xxx