William Stafford Talking
(Written after reading a book of poems by William Stafford who had recently died)
If you’ve been following
my wandering track these
many years, friend, it’s clear
you’ve known long stretches
of boredom, and in sympathy,
I must share with you
my saving secret, countless trips
you know nothing of: whenever
some little beagle belled
I moved outward for miles
on spreading rings of sound.
And when the crow flew over
I too flew, slow-winged and
shiny black, in a straight line
across counties, and harsh
rasping cries sent shivers
everywhere through me.
I have to tell you, dear friend,
one day soon now, on a field
of snow, these tracks I’ve left
for you will cease and you
will feel suddenly, terribly
alone. Circle and cast about
as you will, you will discover
only unmarked drifts and
your own increasingly complex
maze. You will never again
discover a footprint of mine
to lead you on. Your way
will be your own. But now
the boredom ends and
the fun begins. Listen,
for the song of wind through
the evergreen limb. Note faint
glimmerings of starlight dancing
on ice. Join with them. These
will lead you now. Good luck.
[Previously published in Stardust and Fate: The Blueroad Reader]
Joe
Paddock is a poet, oral historian,
and environmental writer who lives in Minnesota. His latest books include Keeper
of the Wild, the biography of wilderness preservationist Ernest Oberholtzer,
and a collection of poetry,
A Sort Of Honey.