The dead leaves on wet grass
have no memory of the wind
that blew them there
or anything else they endured

As the broken cow skull
looking down with hollow eyes
has no memory of seeing them
laying in their eternal autumn

Only the living are burdened with that gift

Image credit:squarefrog

I am a retired entomologist/educator and have been writing poetry for a long time. It's only been in the last few years that I have taken it a little more seriously. I have written hundreds of poems, but still don't consider myself to be an accomplished poet. I keep trying through writing to find new perspectives that reveal the layers of meaning that are always there, just below the surface of the obvious. Some of the poets who have influenced me are W.S. Merwin, Ted Hughes, Dylan Thomas, and Galway Kinnell. However, lately, I agree with what the Poet Laureate Kay Ryan said: "I have tried to live very quietly, so I could be happy...It seems like many people think that if you drive yourself crazy, then you can write. I wanted to see what a fortunate life would produce. What writing would come out of this mind that didn't try to torment itself."