Close Encounter with the Primitive (verse version)

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A Close Encounter with the Primitive
Maudslay State Park; 2-29-04

I reached the limits of that park;
a sign nailed on an evergreen
read “No Trespassing” but something slipped
within its branches. This hurried scene:
an eagle stirred its wings and flew
from cover; it soared above that blue
free will of river. Moving fast,
I slid upon some unseen ice
--my feet flew out from under me--
and arms extending, sensed the vise
of gravity become a thing
no longer holding with its cling
my being. Up I reeled to meet
that eagle in an atmosphere
unknown to me before that day.
Soon everything was quick and near--
the river, wind, and cloudless sky.
An eagle rose. I fell on high.


This is still a work in progress, a third revision. As of late I've been reaching towards 20 or beyond. Not that it's been any help. Ask the editors at The Formalist from whom I received another rejection slip tonight.

But this has been an interesting project, something that blogging I'm sure will encourage. I wrote the prose version before the verse. And it's been helpful in keeping the poem true to the original inspiration. For example, the last line was written "The eagle left. I fell from high." But upon reflection, that was not saying what I wanted to say. In that context, it sounds as if there was a declension in spirit after the eagle flew away. But that was not the case. If there was a fall, it was from an ordinary state to something higher.

But as I was saying, this is just a draft, and I'm sure will undergo more changes. Yet, that said, tonight I'm encouraged by its direction. But I find that writing is a manic-depressive act for me. Come tomorrow morning, I'm sure I'll regret posting this poem, and wonder why I even try my hand at these vanities. Ah, life.