Last week the Sisterhood, (Jan Morrill, Linda Apple, and I) held a writing retreat at Spider Creek Resort just outside Eureka Springs, Arkansas. The place was beautiful. Our cabin was better than some hotel rooms I’ve stayed in. On Saturday morning the three of us went “walk-about” with our pens and paper tucked in with our cell phones. The exercise that morning was to observe things we could later write about.
For those of you not familiar with this area, it is just a hop, skip, and a jump from Beaver Dam. Years ago Dinosaur World was a huge attraction for people going to the dam. Today, however, Dinosaur World is gone. But. The ghosts of ancient prehistoric ones still roam. This is what I saw that morning and what I wrote:
Ode to the Pterodactyl
In the golden hour when day is neither dawn nor dusk,
They ruled the skies.
Sailed on the wind with feathered wings of iron,
Searched land below with sharp, blacken eyes.
A flying fortress with needle-sharp beaks and prehistoric bones
Kept the innocent ones safe in their rocked-skinned homes.
Some say deadly predators.
I say guardians. Protectors in the sky.
Shouting out warnings of the bullies: T-Rex and Raptors
With their piercing, fierce cry.
Alas, the Land Before Time is no longer; over and done
We speak of it only for history; or make films to poke fun.
The warrior bird has fallen, crashed to the ground
Who will warn us now? Keep us safe?
Keep us sound?
But never fear, the mighty Pterodactyl’s soul still roams on high
Visible only to those who believe magic will never die.
Oh thank God I am not overly practical.
Life would be so dull without the mighty Pterodactyl.