Scarecrow Sees
Da Vinci maintained that sight relies on the eye’s
central line, yet the threads holding my
ocular buttons in place weave through four
holes and terminate in a knot. My flying friends
perceive light in a combination of four colors,
unlike the farmer, who blends only three. The
octopus knows black and white but blushes
to escape predators, while I remain fixed,
evading no one. Certainly my sense is more
vision than sight, and not the result of nerve
fibers routing light. Crows choose colors
when asked, but a certain shade of yellow
eludes them. And who would hear, above
the flock’s clamor, my claim to see this world
as it is? Grayscale, monochrome, visual
processing and perceptual lightness measures
mean little to one whose space accumulates
in uncertain increments – what is a foot to an
empty shoe? If I painted, which hues would
prefer my attempts, which would distract or
invade my cellulosic cortex, resulting in
fragmentation or blindness? Fear is not
limited to the sighted alone. I look out over
the field and perceive the harmonious
interaction of soil and root, leaf and sun,
the beauty of atmospheric refraction and
the wonder sprouting daily around me. Then
as one entity the crows explode into the blue,
leaving me alone with the shivering stalks,
questioning my place and purpose, awaiting
the next stray thought, a spark, a lonely
word creeping through this day’s demise.
This was written during the August 2015 Tupelo Press 30-30 Challenge, and was published by The High Window in December 2016.
“sense is more vision than sight, and not the result of nerve fibers routing light” – seems to me an advantage, essential mysticism! Humans too often tricked by our nerve fibers.
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I think so, too. We’re too easily fooled.
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It’s all illusion, I say. Followed by perpetual surprise. (K)
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We’re in the same camp!
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I caught a flash of Van Gogh’s wheatfield and crows at the end. I like your use of biology as metaphor. Excellent!
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Thanks, Pablo. The Van Gogh is an old favorite for multiple reasons – I wrote a sonnet inspired by it some 30 years ago, and a while back I took a mandolin workshop in which Van Gogh came up in the discussion of Bill Monroe’s mandolin technique. Much fun, and it made perfect sense.
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you just blew the tin man’s mind
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The poor tin man never catches a break!
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good post
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Thank you.
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The crows flock to a nearby space in the cold months, and I noticed several perched and cawing when I took my morning walk today…brrr. This resonates. Love ‘ocular buttons’….
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Winter is coming… ❄️ Now where have I heard that?
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Oh, yes…now I’m feeling a whole different sort of chilling!!!
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🙂
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I’ve shared this as one of my recommended blogs of the day on my blogging forum..
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Thanks very much for sharing!
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Meant to include the link
https://www.facebook.com/TheWorldOutsideBlog/
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Thanks!
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🙂😋
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This is beautiful.. I never could have envisioned something like this. And your words made it real 🙂
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You are very generous. Thank you.
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🙂
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Some words are so deep they make you cry. Thank you for the poems.
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I’m so pleased you like them! Thank you.
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