Author: Byungafallgren

Taking Levothyroxine

~ Byungafallgren ~ 6 Comments 
Taking Levothyroxine at 3 a.m.

It's supposed to be taken
when the stomach is deserted,
an hour before it is refreshing to start the day.
But I modified the doc's suggestion:
Taking it at 3 in the morning, which is 
my usual waking time, even when retired 
late. I keep it religiously,
to get the thyroid on track, to keep breathing
as long as I can, to see how the grandkids 
doing with their lives, to see where my penning days
end; will it be the purple-silk hill overlooking the sea,
or the familiar dune? O, I would not care, either way,
as long as my heart occasionally sings.  

© Byung A. Fallgren

A Time to Talk

~ Byungafallgren ~ Leave a comment 
A Time to Talk
Robert Frost 1874--1963

When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed, 
And shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end-up and five foot tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
for a friendly visit.

			

	


				
					


				
					


				
					


	

			
The Doe
		

				

						 ~ Byungafallgren			 ~ 5 Comments					

				

		

The Doe

On a warm evening, walking the dog
near the pasture, I saw an unusual event
unfold in the distance:
a doe and fawn, chased by a coyote;
to keep up 
with its moghter running for her life,
the fawn fell. 
The coyote approached the injoured fawn;
my dog, free from my grip, dashed to the 
predator, howling; the coyote fled.
To examine the injoured one, I got closer,
and it limped away to its mom
watching us from afar. 

When the young buck with the limp leg,
excluded by his group,
the doe joined him walking in the night,
foraged together in the pasture or my yard.

The doe and the buck with crippled back leg
and lovely antlers; the nightly visitors,
now, enjoy a midnight snack on
the leaves of my apple tree. The buck, 
his antlers reaching for the moon, his mouth 
to the apple in the tree; an art of nature.

As I watch them in the moonlight, in awe,
for her motherly love, tears well in my eyes.
How long? She doesn't care; she just lives in the
momentary joy. But she knows instictively
that her care for her son in the season will pay off;
her son is well nourished and fat for the winter.
The night stealthily moves on, and they trot off
into the light of dawn. 

This piece is published in the Avocet, a journal of Nature Poetry,
Summer printed issue, 2022.
© Byung A. Fallgren 











			

	


				
					


				
					


	

			
Face mask, not for others
		

				

						 ~ Byungafallgren			 ~ 2 Comments					

				

		

Face mask, not for others

The flock of gulls at the parking lot,
one wearing a face mask around her neck,
not a souvenir from a day's trip;

she doesn't even know how she got it,
nor does she care for it, even annoying.
She's seen them on humans
that makes her blush to see it on her?

Someone, please take this off me,
she pleads to the clouds,
that seemed to laugh at her.
Passing wind only tries to snap it loose.

This is published in The Avocet, a journal of Nature Poetry, Spring 2022.
© Byung A. Fallgren