by Leigh Marthe
It is not the deer I pass nightly
on my dark way home from town
or the pink possum
or a quick brown fox.
Not the toad hopping
across my blackened path,
nor skittering mouse or mole
blinded by headlights
that was my victim.
Bright red-breasted boy,
you stood in my way,
in full sun this morning,
and I waited for you
to take the customary
last minute flight out from under
my speeding wheels,
but you did not.
Instead you stood Samurai
looking me full in the face
and let me take you
unafraid from this day
and all the rest of the days,
feathers flying away from you,
an offering to the heavens
on your wake.
This poem was previously published in Ad Hoc Monadnock Online.
Leigh Marthe has lived in New Hampshire and was active in its literary community. She now lives and works in Brattleboro, Vermont. Her first chapbook, This Exact Life, was published in 2008 by Wind in the Timothy Press. She has also been published in The 2010 Poets’ Guide to New Hampshire: More Places, More Poets, Mindset Poetry, Cold River Review, Anthology of New England Writers, Private Places, Ad Hoc Monadnock Online, Wind In The Timothy Press On-line, and Summit Avenue Express. Leigh is an avid gardener, yogini, local foodie, and cyclist. She purchased her first electric cargo bicycle last fall to joyfully immerse herself in her community and resist the heavy carbon footprint of our times.
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