It’s been a whirlwind week getting back on track to “normal life” (what is that?) since the ‘fest has been over. Look for my sappy mushball recap at the end of the week!
Until then, please enjoy this poem titled Birdfoot’s Grandpa. I found this poem years ago while living near Ithaca, NY in the very vegan friendly ABC Cafe near Cornell University. A few times a month, me and the Farm Sanctuary staff would go there to feast on giant bowls of the best guacamole and salads covered in a baked tofu called tofu kan.
One night I was flipping through one of the many communal books and came across this piece that so simply and innocently evoked not only feelings of caring for animals but how we can apply that sensitivity to ourselves and others. Enjoy.
Birdfoot’s Grandpa by Joseph Bruchac
The old man
must have stopped our car
two dozen times to climb out
and gather into his hands
the small toads blinded
by our light and leaping,
live drops of rain.
The rain was falling,
a mist about his white hair
and I kept saying
you can’t save them all,
accept it, get back in
we’ve got places to go.
But, leathery hands full
of wet brown life,
knee deep in the summer
roadside grass,
he just smiled and said
they have places to go, too.
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Such beautiful words. Thank you for this post (tears welling). I attended Lee Hall’s lecture at Summerfest. Her book, On Their Own Terms, speaks to the essence of this poem.
Now I wish I had made it to that talk. Thank you so much for the beautiful comment. Perhaps I’ll see you at the next one
What a lovely poem. Thanks for sharing it.