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Choices Made and Lessons Learned
by Rusty C Arquette
One spring afternoon
three boys
with three BB Guns,
returned from a long trek
through the pine forest
at the end of Poplar Street
my house was the only house
on Poplar Street
which was not really a street
not in the traditional sense of the word
no curbs and sidewalks lined its length
just a gravel topped layer of tar
that we constantly tracked
into the house
stuck to our shoes
making my mother crazy
the grass had grown up
along each side of the road
calf high for the most part
encroaching on the roadways space
the deaf man,
who worked for the city
tending to the mowing chores
during the hot months
when the Bahia grass shot up
hadnt been around with
his Ford tractor and spinning blade
so it was thick, and green,
and way past due
the three of us
had used up a couple tubes
of shiny BBs each
only a few dozen balls were left
rattling around in the barrels
we chattered about nothing
boy talk with no purpose needed
every few feet cocking the guns
and popping off a shot
at a light pole, pine tree,
or discarded soda can
aimlessly
winding down the long day
after an adventure in the wilds
of the Florida outback
a Meadow Lark,
yellow breasted
and fringed in a salt and pepper
combination of black and white
feathers on its wings
perched on a power line
singing an eight note tune
it attracted my ear
I looked up
and in a fluid move
I cocked the pump on the gun
and pulled off a quick shot
from the hip
without aiming
the bird went silent
and fell like a rock to the ground
a few feather fragments
slowly followed his descent
a slow motion counterpoint
to the sudden fall
my two partners
ran to see the results
of my wild west shot
gazing down on the body
of the bird in the grass
they stared
prodded it with the barrel of a gun,
toed it gently with a dirty sneaker,
marveled at my marksmanship
and turned and walked away
their voices faded
I knelt and studied my target
it now seemed so small
and my heart suddenly ached
in a moment
of thoughtless outcome
Id done this
I gently picked up the body
it had weight
it was warm in my hands
its eyes shut, it breathed frantically
a tiny spot of red on its breast
and torn feathers
the obvious mark
of my grievous misdeed
its breathing slowed
it heaved a small sigh
and died
and a piece of me died with it
that innocence
we all share in childhood
had been tainted by reality
through these effects of poor choice
emotive lessons of life are learned
later that night
as I was trying to drift off to sleep
the warmth of that tiny body came back
and the final moments of its life
and I cried
long and hard
I cried into my pillow
and inside
I still cry
03/30/2004 Author's Note: I suppose if we didn't learn through pain we'd never enjoy pleasure.
Posted on 02/10/2008
Copyright © 2024 Rusty C Arquette
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Max Phineas on 02/10/08 at 10:04 PM Wow, this is so true. We all have those moments we regret as young children. This is a beautiful reflection. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 02/11/08 at 03:30 AM Rusty - a sad reflection when innocence is gone, through a simple choice. Well done. I like the irony of the photo you included. |
| Posted by Wendy Sparling on 02/12/08 at 12:13 AM I had a simular experience but with a bird and sprinkler. I found an injured bird and nursed it for two days then thought it would like a shower under the sprinkler. The poor bird was unable to fly or move. I set it under the sprinkler for about half an hour. When I thought it had enough, I wrapped it in tissue for a minute. The poor sparrow went stiff and died. I cried so hard my mother came outside to see if I was ok. I was seven years old, and I will never forget that moment. Your author's note is so true. |
| Posted by Wendy Sparling on 02/12/08 at 12:13 AM ps...I didn't mean to write a book (hehe) |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 02/12/08 at 02:13 PM Another great tale from your youth so poignantly written. Fortunatley it was a lesson learned. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 02/12/08 at 05:58 PM Wow...like an hour long episode of The Waltons reduced to a five minute read. Well stated...well done sir. Tonight I'm going to go home and give my 5 month old kitten an extra hug for you and the Meadow Lark. |
| Posted by Charles E Minshall on 02/13/08 at 08:09 PM I had the same experience when I was young Rusty
and the same feelings of regret. Well done poem....Charlie |
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