May's poem is definitely a very rough draft of a poem that kept nudging at me during a meeting today. I tried to participate in the meeting, and I think I did a pretty good job of listening and responding to my colleagues while at the same time jotting down words/ideas for the poem. Still some work to do as I feel like I'm just scratching the surface of what I really want from it.
Alongside the Path
Yesterday on my way to work,
as I cycled along the path
where last week I'd come across
a beautiful dead bird,
a long-beaked, feathers of golden brown and black bird,
maybe a Long-Billed Dowicher,
not known for these parts, but somehow here
and maybe, hopefully, just reached the end
of its time,
I spotted a bicycle chain in the grass
but then kept going,
thinking I would retrieve it on my way home.
But I didn't.
I forgot about it.
This morning on my way to work,
as I cycled along the path,
I remembered the broken bicycle chain
and looked for it,
spotting its snake-like repose
partly on the path, partly in the grass.
Dead, like the Long-Billed Dowicher,
but ugly in its death,
the silvery shine long eaten away by neglect
allowing a thick layer of rust to build,
stiffening the links into tangled kinks,
until one, it only takes one,
failed, cleaved into jagged halves,
and the whole is simply discarded,
alongside the path.