A Bed Among Goats

 

You will have a warmer bed in amongst the goats than among the sheep. Aristotle

 

 

We press up during sleep, all dreaming

of new leaves. The kids’ legs twitch in play.

Against the cold and the roaming panther

we need each other and the shepherd

sharing our warmth.

 

We bring cheer to horses,

who grow anxious about all they do not recognize;

a fallen branch is a snake,

a blown rag at the edge of vision,

the paw of a wolf. Among us,

their eyes stop rolling

and they bend their long necks to the grass.

 

We find the wild lands

better than dreams.

We climb high on a hill, high up broken boulders,

testing our clever feet.

Although buzzards hang above,

they are flies to us.

 

We do not fear these untried places.

Far below, olive trees wave silver and green,

whisper with the small birds

who never settle to their thoughts.

 

The shepherd comes after us, muttering,

watching her feet slipping among rocks

instead of looking out

where we look,

until we take pity and go to her.

We butt her legs gently, press up

until she lets go her human fears

and we return home as one.

 

 

Only Ducks

 

Only ducks and birds of the same kind soar up straight away, and move skyward from the start, and this even from water; and consequently they alone when they have fallen into the pits that we use for trapping wild animals get out again. Pliny the Elder

 

 

You stare skyward

and know chewing off your leg will not get you out of this trap.

 

Think of the good: this trap

is not lined with stakes.

 

You might think if you had a long stake

you could climb out or occupy yourself with trying

 

but if you spend all day trying

and failing, what will you make of your life?

 

If you die here, what has your life

meant in the world but that of any animal

 

earthbound in its animal

desires and destined to end in a pit?

 

You were not ready, no one was ready, for this pit

from which all you can see are ducks soaring skyward.

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Salamander

 

Man is unable to communicate successfully with the salamanders, owing to the fiery element in which they dwell. Attributed to Paracelcus, 16th century

 

The myths still flicker

that the salamander lives in fire

that his venom will poison the fruit

of any tree he climbs.

Some say the salamander’s cold nature

will relieve a fever

but one drop of his venom

will leave a person hairless.

 

At night he makes himself visible

as a small ball of light running over fields

or peering into houses.

By day he never leaves his den

but in storms and great rain.

 

Away from the boil and clatter of human noise

he noses into humus above the delicate

sounds of earthworms

decomposing the dead.

If you put your hand on the forest floor and feel

a place colder than the rest,

a salamander is below.

 

At night his spots reflect moonlight

like stars planted in the cold

vast sky where voices go nowhere

and all fire dies.

But listen

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Birds in the Moon

 

…their chearefulness seems to intimate, that they have some noble design in hand…namely, to get above the admosphere, hie and fly away to the other world. Charles Morton, 1703

 

During a full moon in autumn

I watched geese in their V formation flying upwards

into the pale light, their leisurely wingbeats

disguising great speed.

 

We have traced the life histories of beasts, insects, and fish;

We discovered industrious cities in a drop of water

and mapped the circulation of blood in our bodies.

but the destination of birds in winter eluded us.

 

Now we turn our eyes to the Heavens and see

the moon is to earth as earth is to the moon

in the planets’ sojourn through the heavens, for the Creator

would not fashion a world without someone to live on it.

 

Where else should birds’ upward flight take them

but to the moon? They swing on fast asleep,

living off their own fat for the two-month journey

without gravity to slow them.

 

Through the telescope we see dark patterns of water

and lighter shapes of hills

all pale and silvery, the water somber gray

and the trees shifting from gilt to slate.

 

Here, migrating birds acquire new feathers

and blend with the trees

drowsily eating fruit and insects

before the long flight back to earth

and all the work of begetting and raising young.

 

I seek funds for this project::

to train twenty-five cranes to carry me to the moon in a basket,

to fashion wings from swans’ feathers to speed me past earth’s gravity,

to explore the moon’s terrain and search out its inhabitants—

gifts of beads, which have proved useful to earthly travelers, should suffice—

to chart the course so that others may come after me and enrich our country through trade.

When the cranes notice a change in air and abatement of food, they will carry me home

where I will write a full account for the Royal Society and the edification of the public.

 

I remind you that the Age of Exploration is in its infancy

and we may solve one of Creation’s great mysteries,

as did Copernicus, Kepler and Galileo,

if we discard our insular belief in Earth’s supremacy

and follow the natural inclination of birds

into the Moon’s embrace.

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