Comments about Greg Beattie
From your big, free, beautiful flight
Arrow straight and jet high
You would stoop at night to honor our farm pond
Like dignitaries from an exotic, foreign land.
Now you hapless stand
Abandoned to handless begging
Homeless at the city park, messing the putting green
Lunging at cigarette butts and reminding me
Of the places I came from and have chosen
And what I have kept of what was once
The big, free, beautiful flyway
Of my heart.