The Geomancer

People called him a wizard

but that is not how he saw himself.

He was an acute observer of the natural world

and a very good listener.  Listening was a rare trait

in human beings.  Most people who considered themselves wise

liked to hear themselves talk— tall tales and

misunderstood rumors,

but the geomancer liked to listen,

singing birds, buzzing insects, boasting frogs, and howling wolves.

He loved to watch the moon believing he was learning

about tides and changing seasons

but discovered cycles within cycles instead.

One early evening, full moon hanging low in the sky,

he saw the silhouettes of geese traversing the lunar orb.

The flock contained far too many geese to count,

shadows crossing the moon over and over.

One day while watching the swallows perform acrobatic dances

high above a snowmelt swollen creek

the geomancer realized that at any given moment

millions of bugs were riding the winds

and travelling the world while humans were unaware.

The wind whispers so many secrets we never hear.

The geomancer stood atop a rocky ridge

watching the geese fly across the moon.

One side of the ridge was forested with gnarled oak trees

and the other side with rows of low scrub brush.

The geomancer knew the ridge represented a fault line

and the bright orange poppies popping out of the soil

meant the ore they would dig out of the ground would be copper.

The geese cried out as they flew, honking loudly.

The geomancer had never suspected that geese migrated at night

but he was pretty certain they travelled fast and far.

Any bird who saw so much of the world

was probably far wiser than he.

They called him a wizard because he knew

when the last frost had passed and it was safe to plant crops,

knew where to find minerals and medicinal plants,

and the patterns of the animals.

He merely considered himself an acute observer of the natural world.

The geomancer stood atop the rocky ridge watching geese fly

and wondered if the large birds ever flew beyond the moon,

each feathered being illuminating the heavens

until the sky was filled with billions of migrating stars.

Gary Every is an award winning journalist, slam poet, teacher, storyteller, musician and has been nominated for the Rhysling Award 7 times. While you are reading this he is probably out hiking somewhere.