The Rook
written by: Tony Ashenden
@AshendenTony
In the stone-hard furrows
of a winter fallow field
head down
pecking the ground
the rook -knows a lean meal
when he sees one.
With a non-stop brain
in the belly unlike you
-‘I’ brain conscious,
his beak keeps pecking
burning calories
getting little and less.
Until slowly
little is no more
and weakness halts him.
Observer and naturalist
take note
the rook has no name.
This bare faced
creation of feather and bone
constant host
of protozoa
is an avatar
not found in your books.
His smallest parts
are self-known
unicellular kingdoms
unbounded by form and time.
He knew that before
his face was feathered.
The half-closed eyes
have no regrets
as he caws
the one last time.
What does
your looking tell you?
Do you suppose learning
comes from observing,
dissecting, magnifying?
Can you rise above sympathy?
If so, why can you not
reveal the mystery?
He caws not for bread
or his mate
long since dead
he caws for his life
that bounds
from his head.
See –now
the wings
no longer lift
the legs do not move.
The order to rest
is final.
Perfect.
Learn from that
if you can.
The rook who didn’t need name
whose belly forever guided his brain
shows you life’s three-fold harmony
how life transforms without pain.
Wheeling as you do
caged between
Earth and Heaven,
what release
does your harmony bring
self-appointed surrogate King?
