Their World, Not Ours Poem by David Whalen

Their World, Not Ours (free verse)

Watching the doves and chickadees
From my patio,
looking into another wild world
Wishing them to alight,
Like my parakeets, on my finger
Bringing back a precious memory
From my youth…

Out of the shade of the dense forest
And into a glade of soft grass
An unexpected dale of tranquility
Sun shining warmly through natures skylight
Into their world,
not ours

My gun at rest on my shoulder
eyes gazing in wonder
At this shallow valley, a sunlit Eden
within an Eden, with paw worn trails
To den entrances,
leading to their homes

My hunting partner follows and halts
staring with wide eyes at the beauty
At the sanctity of it all
Rests his gun on shoulder as did I
And we see rays of sunlight piercing
As if through windows of a sylvan cathedral


Small saplings around glades edge
With small, white bones, adorning their branches
Placed by Vixens acting as exterior decorators
Exercising feral Feng Shui
Soft grass flattened in places
As if plush carpets for their kits to lie on

We walk to the center and gaze in wonder
Guns shouldered and forgotten
Slowly turn in religious rotation
No words are spoken
This is their world
not ours

We are in someone else’s home
feeling strangely guilty, yet glad
That such a place as this exists, and
exists as if man
did not exist at all


Feeling as if anointed or blessed
We smile at one another
and we turn, as one,
again, without a word spoken
We nod to each other and leave

Leaving nothing disturbed in that place
while taking away only stolen memories
To savor later on
Pleasurable contraband? Yes and no.

A gift from them
For leaving them alone,
in fond remembrance,
In their world,
not ours