Things happen

Feathers fallen


This isn’t the next poem about “crow’s change”. I may get to that in the coming days. Crow’s change is written around a crow’s mysterious death and my interpretation and attention to it. I discovered crow one morning on the trail, found a place on the edge of the woods, set him in the moss and twigs and gathered him into my thoughts.

Yesterday there was suggestion of greater change and this morning it was done.

Often when walking, I write or voice-record thoughts on my do-everything-phone. The voice records are usually quite accurate but there are times when single or even groups of words are altered that change the meaning entirely. This isn’t a problem because I just need an idea of what I was thinking. I haven’t used the voice recorder for a long time. Today I wrote a number of things… and for some reason switched to record for a last, important fragment and realization.

Every word was correct, except one. The word “eagle” was dropped and replaced by another.


This morning

the ego waited for me to come;

lifted off the tree,

dropped the remains

so that I would know.




9 thoughts on “Things happen

  1. Chris, I’m fascinated with how you string things together. I admit to often comparing your interpretations and thoughts to mine. I’m a photographer and not a writer or poet, yet our processes at time seem almost identical.

    • Nice to hear from you Rufus… very cool that you would see similarities in our thought processes. A photographer and not a writer or poet? I’m remiss in my visits to Spool 2 Spool, but just wandered over to confirm something (and enjoy your photos of course!)… I like to think of poetry as a language – you speak it very well! Have a great weekend.


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