A SHAMAN’S SONG
(Poem about Weld by Earl John Westcott)
Who tolls the morning bell I hear?
For you, for me, or the swirling sea
of faery dancers, in the cold north air,
waltzing ’round me pair by pair?
Loyal guards for budding trees
position selves around each base;
not fearing you or me they face,
but a sawyer’s hunger to embrace.
Another May ‘fore Gia’s bar
that renders judgements every hour,
and we hide away, abuse our powers
to act as guardians of even flowers.
No more, one sees vast quantities
of species ‘fore the naked eye.
Will humankind devour itself?
The bell of Weld tolls nine,
and the question’s once again on shelf
here and there.
An evening telephone call to my daughter.
Needed to talk of today; needed her assurance
that all was well, and like a child,
to hear her voice before going to sleep.
***
A Memorial Service for Earl John Westcott will be held in The Weld Town Office on Saturday, June 11, at 5 p.m. Westcott lived in the center of Weld for several years and wrote poems about our town. He passed away in October of last year in Arkansas. – Henry Braun
Early John, you are missed