Voice of the Loon
My soul is bound to the voice
Of the loon. The haunting call
Strikes a chord beneath reason's time,
And draws me back to northern woods,
Deep water lakes, with glacial marks,
Huge stones piled on southern shores,
Dragged along the ridge to fall when
Warmth returned in this new age.
The loon's voice echoes through green
Hills and hidden valleys, giving tone
To deep space within.
The pairs display in bonding cries,
And warn intruders of every kind.
Another family splits in sudden dives,
Dividing risk, diverting prying eyes.
And still the call, like a signal bell,
Whose message is not read,
Keeps sounding there and in my mind
Long days and many miles aways.
--Robert L. Doty--
Tue, August 13, 2013
by Robert L. Doty filed under
- new age,
- green hills,
- bonding cries,
- Robert L. Doty,