Cancer Journal #50 Sept 3

 Here is a poem I wrote for my writing group.

Acorns Landing on the Metal Roof of my Garage

Different drummer, different drum

Setting the beat to a song I do not know.

Might be whales would.

A rhythm undetectable to my ear 

But if trees send out alarm

From one side of a grove to the other,

Warning of insect invasion,

Who knows what goes on.

Or maybe my roof calls out chow time

As army drums summoned soldiers to supper*

The dinner call to rabbits, racoons, possums, a flock of turkeys.

Squirrels in irregular weave to my garage.

The animated world of early Disney woodland scenes

 May have had it right.  It all works together.

Just as crows warn prey of predators,

My roof rings out the bell.

*The drum call was named “Peas Upon a Trencher". A trencher was a wooden bowl soldiers would carry. Peas were what they had to eat. The term was broad enough to include beans.

When I first wrote this, I thought it would be fun to attach a second poem to it doing a kind of self critique accusing myself of lacking authenticity. (Whales? Come on!) But I couldn't come up with a way of doing that poetically and then I warmed to the poem, not finding it all that inauthentic. When I read it for the writing group, I was told I was getting the hang of the poetry thing. Do you agree?

Connection to Cancer Department                                                                                                       Google hits division

1. "Cancer" "Drums" 15,8000,000 hits                                                                                           2."Cancer" "Acorns" 545,000 hits                                                                                                    3. 3."Cancer" "Peas Upon a Trencher" one hit