Native Son: April 18, 2024

So here I lay, upon the ground,
Thinking deep thoughts, so profound:
Like…”Will a kumquat come true from seed?”
and “How did I get here?”… of course.
(Seems I squatted down to pull a weed,
and got plumb runned-over by a Charlie Horse.)

Flat-out, face-up in the dirt by the backyard bird feeder
At least it’s a new view of my eastern redcedar.
Looking upward into the trees,
Home to birds and squirrels and bees…
So, naturally, tweets and squeaks and buzzes fill the air,
A baby bunny scampers by, now two… I do declare!
Communing with Mother Nature is so delightful,
Butterflies and hummingbirds and owls, so insightful.
A cardinal, a blue jay, a sparrow, a wren,
Here comes that cute little tufted titmouse again.
A mole, a vole, a shrew, a mouse,
All have come to stay at my house.
A rat, a cat, a ‘possum, a raccoon,
The bats will arrive same time as the moon.

Wasps and horseflies and hornets and imported fire ants,
Chiggers and ticks and scorpions – oh my! – all up in my pants.
Still sitting here alone, for hours, sipping from Nature’s cup…
Truth is, I’ve lost both my cell phone and my ability to get up.
The leg cramp that leveled me was just looking for some revelry,
A place to party, a place for mirth; a way to cement me to the earth.
I finally resorted to some good ol’ quid-pro-quo prayer,
Right ‘bout then this skunk arrives and displayed to me his sprayer.
My body took flight up into the night –
 I wouldn’t lie to you,
And the gas passed me by, so now you know why–
 This poem was written in a pew.

Don’t forget to hydrate!

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I need a road trip! Let me know if you’d like me to come and speak to your group sometime. I’m low maintenance, flexible, and you know I like to go just about anywhere. No city too big; no town too small. Just send me an e-mail at stevenchamblee@yahoo.com and we’ll work something out.