Buffleheads
by Lee Evans
(Bath, Maine)
BUFFLEHEADS
I love to see them on the waves,
Along the beach, or in their trees.
I love to watch them fly away,
Without a running start, from me!
My father used to lurk behind
Four plywood walls that stood on stilts
Above the river nailed with pine,
His rifle ready at a tilt
Toward the vast and open sky,
Where ducks and geese would spread their wings
In Freedom, for which all must die--
All human and non-human things.
But I wear no such grim disguise
As I meander on the beach
In plain sight of the earth and sky,
Determined to let Nature teach.
These clouds, the seashells, shifting sands,
The wind, the cold, the winter sun,
The whistling swans: from these a man
Can claim more trophies than with gun.
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