Losing Distance

Bird, this space between us, explain?

Amber eye between the feathers
so quick with sight to measure
in meters, or in feet
the shadow that does creep
with quick hops so light
greased for gravity
taking flight
whether solo, or flocks of might
this distance remains.

I've seen you on the alligator,
even on the hippo's maw.
Such large and untamed beast,
yet you fear them in the least
compared to me.

What infamous shame
has caused this distance,
this pain?
What prehistoric feud
between the feather and my brood
has caused this shift,
this rift to remain?

Around me the forest is a cacophony of unseen birds.
Perhaps this distance a reflection of indifference.
The absolute gap between oneself and nature?
This body has no language
no vocabulary of stamen and spoor.
How long has it been since I've strolled
under branch and over spring grown grass,
close my eyes, and just

Listen.

Moving branches sculpt
the shape of a running deer.
A brook makes a clean sound
I can not define.
A brazen groundhog crosses my path,
a wind swept mantis in flight,
mosquito stings.
I start to connect,
losing distance.

I trace the memory of this valley
and the paths leading me down
mouth deep into shadow
where the morning is pronounced
in wintergreen and pine.

I try to remember a Summer in June.
Not the sniggering statistics of June,
or the whitenoise of June.
But June in sparrow song,
June as weather,
June in heat.

I open my eyes and the world is silent.
Nothing moves until my head inclines
towards the ground
to the mud around my feet.

Distance lost.

V shaped prints
dance around me
in a wild, perfect circle.