The Emu

It comes up sometimes

during a SAWC gathering.

Were you there when The Emu jumped out?

The highway atop the steep bank

above Wiley’s Last Resort

is strategic for tossing the unwanted—

fast-food debris,

the non-biodegradable,

and puppies.

We were all in agreement with Dick

who said Scott’s poem would work better

by switching the first and last stanzas

when the sudden halt of a van caught our attention.

The driver got out, ran to the back,

opened the door, ran back to the front,

jumped in, and drove off.

There stood The Emu.

Wiley had been expecting another

three-legged Jack to join his fleet

of mongrels set out this way.

Give Wiley your huddled masses,

your tired, your poor emu.

Later that summer,

I camp with my sons at Wiley’s,

doubting The Emu is still there.

Out of the woods, a scene straight from Jurassic Park,

the forbidding bird approaches, taller than sons.

I instruct firmly as during a Code Blue,

No sudden moves.

I see my children living in the moment,

palms outstretched with laughter and granola—

no regret, no fear of the future,

only the wonderment

of The Emu stepping from shadow,

another dimension,

just for them.

I can see myself flipping through the rolodex

of genetic experience for what to do

when faced with prehistoric artillery—

hard beak, eviscerating claws,

and powerful legs that can outrun at 30 mph.

I can see my living in the moment

already includes what I am saving

for later

in order to search for

and write down

my answer.

I was there.

-Hilda Downer

from Wiley's Last Resort. Hickory:  Redhawk Publications, 2022.