Walking stick

The walking
stick picks
its way
upside down
along the
underside
of the meadow’s
flowering surface —
goldenrod,
asters,
snakeroot —
a stem
among stems,
stalking just
the right
leaf. When
it reaches
a gap
in the canopy,
it stops
to sway —
a rhythmic
rocking. Then
one spined
twig reaches
for the nearest
likely toehold
& the rest
of it follows,
stretched like
the shadow
of a tree
in winter
across
the glaring
moment of
the sky.

6 Replies to “Walking stick”

  1. Wonderful poem about my favorite insect.

    “one spined/ twig reaches”

    The shape and pacing of the poem is so much like their measured movements. Well done. Makes me see a critter I haven’t in too long.

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