June 2018


The Ides of June are quickly approaching as the Ancient Eagle team returns to the Internet.  Two weeks of travel, far off-line, were a good lesson in unplugging.  Life is possible without being in constant touch.  For ten days, total focus was on the birds, bugs and larger wildlife in Mozambique.  There are, however, equally compelling experiences to be found at home.  Case in point, the inspiration to June's Poem of the Month.


                        The Wreck of the Unsinkable Molly Drown

  The school year was over 
  The kids were all set free
  They rested on their backsides
  On the living room settee.
  The Internet was overtaxed
  From all their online gaming,
  When Granddad came into the room
  And started with the shaming.

   "This is no way to spend your time
  The summer’s for exploring
  Let’s seize the day and have some fun
  Before the rain starts pouring.
  Let’s grab a fishing pole of two
  And catch ourselves some dinner,
  Or boating on the lake would be
  Another summer winner."

   So up they jumped (with muted groans)
  And put their games on pause
  And followed Granddad on his quest
  Despite his many flaws.
  They limbered up the fishing poles,
  And hooked a cedar tree,
  Then snagged the youngest with a lure
  Till Grandmom set her free.

   “Let’s go for something safer,
  We’ll head out on the sea,
  I’ll take the little boat
  And leave the big one for you three.
  She is a fine and sturdy craft
  With lots of foam inside her,
  All winter she’s been waiting here.
  Please just ignore the spider.”

   “For years she’s plied these waters,
  She glides across the lake,
  This gal will never fail you.
  Get aboard for Heaven’s sake!”
  So in they climbed, they filled the craft
  Up to the water line,
  The kids had grown, perhaps too much
  But everything was fine.

  They turned the prow into the wind
  And paddled with a passion,
  Though heading was uncertain
  In a somewhat random fashion.
  They managed to get turned around
  Thanks to the strongest rower
  Then noticed things weren’t going well:
  The boat kept getting lower.

  Their shoes and socks were getting wet,
  Their pants were getting soggy,
  The boat was getting hard to steer,
  The future now looked foggy.
  A desperate cry went to the shore,
  Where Grandmom stood her ground,
  “I’ll call into the Coast Guard,
  I don’t want to see you drowned.”

  Then sprinting to the rescue,
  Granddad used his small kayak
  To nudge the big boat toward the shore,
  And get the grandkids back.
  They jumped into the water
  As the boat achieved the shore,
  Where dripping and unhappy
  They swore to boat no more.

   Granddad kept on laughing
  Till he realized that ants
  Were living in his kayak
  And now crawling in his pants.
  So now the tale is started
  And we’ll hear it evermore,
  Of when Granddad launched the kid’s boat
  With the drain plug still ashore.


  Lee Alloway 2018
 

Each month Ancient Eagle Press offers a poem appropriate to the season or the mood of our editorial staff.   Poems may be new or drawn from existing AEP editions.

Poem of the Month

                            Archives

   May 2018 -- Advice to my Grandson

  April 2018 -- Awaiting Idunn

  March 2018 -- Flight

  February 2018 -- Lakesong

  January 2018 -- Schrödinger's Cat

  December 2017 -- Daybreak

  October 2017 -- Night Watch

  September 2017 -- The Princess

  August 2017 - Pelham

  July 2017 --  Siena

  June 2017 -- Loyal, Straight, and True

  May 2017 --  A Thousand Flowers

  April 2017 -- Oboe Rap

  March 2017 - March Madness

  February 2017 -- The Cost of Doing Business

  January 2017 -- Reflection at a Winter Window

  December 2016 -- The Creation

  November 2016 -- Hemolymph Moon

  October 2016 -- Vortex

  September 2016 -- Do You?

  August 2016 -- Sailing
  July 2016 --  Mulberries
  June 2016 -- Off Tucker Point
  May 2016 -- Unforgettable
  April 2016 -- At Night She Cries

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