Mike Estabrook
2 poems
**
Six Birds
two crows
at the side of the road pecking at something dead, bits of stringy gray flesh in the tips of their yellowed beaks: pecking, pecking, heads jabbing down striking, glass-eyes glistening in the sun
an eagle
in the forest, large and brown, drops seemingly from nowhere into nothing as we walk beneath the trees
two geese
the river slides before me, tiny smooth ripples, noiseless against the reeds and broken tree branches and thick black roots like tired snakes, still winter so no turtles or fish break the surface, only two geese standing stiff as statues, eyeing me and the quiet river too
an egret
stands in the shallows of a pond, poised, elegant, focused, his long beak snapping suddenly like a whip into the water, stabbing at a plump, brown tadpole, but misses, his beady eyes stare into the dark water, incredulous, and, if I didn’t know better, a little embarrassed about it too
**
baby elephant
Little pine tree off in the gloaming looks like a little person, a dwarf maybe or an elf, while a bumpy, gnarled tree root appears to be a skunk, and then over on the side of the path is a rock that looks so much like a baby elephant I stop and stare. I suppose I should have worn my glasses, but sometimes for a little while at least, it seems better to see things as they aren’t.
**
return to Sawbuck 1.7
**
Mike Estabrook says: "I’m a Marketing Communications Manager for a tiny division of a gigantic company, and man, going into an office every day is excruciating. I’ve been writing poetry for so long that Methuselah should be taking notice, but in reality, time is simply doing its thing streaking ahead blithely pulling all of us along for the wild ride whether we like it or not; reminds me, I’ve published 15 poetry chapbooks over the years, the last one just came out about my Dad, methinks I see my father, done in cahoots with the talented Glenn Cooper from Australia, and before that was when Patti would fall asleep, about my wife. Guess you could say I’m a family man."
**
Six Birds
two crows
at the side of the road pecking at something dead, bits of stringy gray flesh in the tips of their yellowed beaks: pecking, pecking, heads jabbing down striking, glass-eyes glistening in the sun
an eagle
in the forest, large and brown, drops seemingly from nowhere into nothing as we walk beneath the trees
two geese
the river slides before me, tiny smooth ripples, noiseless against the reeds and broken tree branches and thick black roots like tired snakes, still winter so no turtles or fish break the surface, only two geese standing stiff as statues, eyeing me and the quiet river too
an egret
stands in the shallows of a pond, poised, elegant, focused, his long beak snapping suddenly like a whip into the water, stabbing at a plump, brown tadpole, but misses, his beady eyes stare into the dark water, incredulous, and, if I didn’t know better, a little embarrassed about it too
**
baby elephant
Little pine tree off in the gloaming looks like a little person, a dwarf maybe or an elf, while a bumpy, gnarled tree root appears to be a skunk, and then over on the side of the path is a rock that looks so much like a baby elephant I stop and stare. I suppose I should have worn my glasses, but sometimes for a little while at least, it seems better to see things as they aren’t.
**
return to Sawbuck 1.7
**
Mike Estabrook says: "I’m a Marketing Communications Manager for a tiny division of a gigantic company, and man, going into an office every day is excruciating. I’ve been writing poetry for so long that Methuselah should be taking notice, but in reality, time is simply doing its thing streaking ahead blithely pulling all of us along for the wild ride whether we like it or not; reminds me, I’ve published 15 poetry chapbooks over the years, the last one just came out about my Dad, methinks I see my father, done in cahoots with the talented Glenn Cooper from Australia, and before that was when Patti would fall asleep, about my wife. Guess you could say I’m a family man."
