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The Moody Old Man Reveals Nothing
In the shadow of Raven Ridge,
A deer kill draws in a murder of crows
And three bald eagles
Wheeling weightless
In a sky as bright and blue
As a child’s eyes.
In the shadow of Raven Ridge,
A pair of great horned owls
Claim the nest
Of a red squirrel
Deep in the high fir,
Rousing their two owlets
With soft hoots
On the edge of each evening
And teasing us with
Tall tales in the teeth and bones
Of their droppings.
In the shadow of Raven Ridge,
Waxwings pool in the mountain ash,
Roiling up like confetti
At the slightest stir in the still air,
And the evergreens sag
Under a brocade of late snow,
Each undressing with a sigh
As the day warms
And the breeze rises.
In the shadow of Raven Ridge,
A mule deer
On the sun sweetened slope
Raises her head from the bitterbrush
To hear again the sound
Still whispering
To the soft cilia
In her ear,
A mountain lioness
Drapes her tawny length
Along the limb of a fir by the barn,
And the flickers peck holes
Under the eaves of my house.
In the shadow of Raven Ridge,
I watch for a sign
On the changing face
Of Hoodoo Peak,
But the moody old man
Reveals nothing.
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