I stride along the riverbank, quite alone
swirling waters draw me towards icy depths
suddenly a heron takes wing before me
my eyes seek the sky
where vultures, buoyed on thermals, scan the surrounds
scents waft skywards to their attention: dead meat
calls to the scavengers, unlucky youngling
its mother has died
her bones will be picked by the birds soon enough.
The fawn shivers, although it cannot know how
soon its fate will come. I, on the other hand
am all too aware
that my time here is fleeting and soon will pass
my body’ll wither like wind-blown autumn grass
©
Adrienne Stevenson is a Canadian living in Ottawa, Ontario. A retired forensic scientist, she writes poetry, fiction and creative non-fiction. Her poetry has been published in Bywords, Quills, Scarlet Leaf Review, Blood & Bourbon, The Wire’s Dream, The Literary Nest, The Poet-On the Road, Ottawa Poets Pathway “Lampman Challenge” chapbook, “Time and Again Poetry Anthology” chapbook, and 20/20 Vision by Canadian Authors Association-National Capital Branch.
We’ll all be there, soon enough (too soon?), eh? Nicely captured, Adrienne.
Thanks, Ron.