All the Wrong Reasons

/ Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr

All the Wrong Reasons

All the Wrong ReasonsWalking along the trail
or across it
stopping occasionally
to eat, or at least gnaw.
Not a care in the world
except survival.

Annoyed by the hiker
stopping to stare
at a vine, or lichen
or that majestic oak
for all the wrong reasons.
Sure it’s majestic
but for pictures?

Everyone knows
it’s the nuts the tree drops.
The hiker moves on
as the squirrel reappears
picking up an acorn
lying on the trail.

I’ve long enjoyed reading Claudia McGill’s poetry, and decided to write this in one of her styles. Here are some examples from Claudia –
                    Revealed Too Much
                    Cross Roads
                    Carrying On Like This
                    Grasp

 

16 thoughts on “All the Wrong Reasons”

  3. You’ve made my day. Thank you so much for the compliments to my work, and I love this poem. I was out on the trail this morning (we have a beautiful day, sunny and mild, and the trail was in perfect form). I can see all elements of your poem in my walk – especially the squirrel’s viewpoint of the people – I had a similar feeling when today I came upon a man photographing I guess his wife who was standing on a boulder and pretending to climb the rock face ( a cut from when the trail was train tracks) – with her hand in poison ivy. Everyone knows…No they don’t, do they? Thank you again so much.

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      • I’m terrible at finding poison ivy but a friend has helped me with the “leaves of three” and “hairy is scary”. I’m very allergic so I am cautious with any vines these days. (you have seen my Reforesters outfit) There is a world-class crop of poison ivy along the trail. These people, it was as if they were tourists posing at some national site, which is also hilarious to me. As for squirrel art, I can say I am sure I have never done anything with them, though I know I have some photos.

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        • When my parents lived in the country, they would have to periodically clear poison ivy from a small grove and pavilion they used for activities. They knew what to look for, but my mom and sister invariably suffered.

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  6. Enjoyed your poem, Ken. I am fond of Squirrels in spite of the trouble they gave me with the seed feeder. Meanwhile I also laughed both at his failures and his wins. Am also amazed how they fly between the treetops, never missing a landing branch. And so industrious burying nuts for the winter store.

    Miriam

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