Nature

I am the marmot you see from your
Window. I cover the ground with its
Rolling gait. I pause at the precipice,
Rise up and gaze, and I sniff. I'm
Impassive. I'm hungry. I'll eat,
And I'll be by myself every time
That you look. That's the way that
I am, something coded in me. You
Can come to your door and offer
Me food, say that you'll hold me and
Make me a bed, but I'll bolt.
I'm a marmot. I can't be a pet.
I must forage alone, neither happy
Nor sad, simply what I have learned
I must be.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 62 times
Written on 2014-03-14 at 23:54

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