Treasure Island

G.R. Gaus

(April 11 1950 / St. Louis)

Instinct


Insects feel, how to survive,
It’s nothing that they’re taught,
Every bee makes a perfect hive,
As a fly avoids getting caught.

Whales swim a thousand miles,
To turn around and head back,
Passing by a thousand isles,
As if, they’re locked on track.

From California, adults bear on,
To a stream in the Bering Strait,
Pacific Salmon return to spawn,
Somehow aware, not to be late.

Mighty grizzly nestled down,
Winter knocking on the door,
Resting long upon the ground,
With only body fat to care for.

Woven nests of sticks and vines,
Fertile eggs, cautiously kept warm,
Knowing all of natures signs,
Naturally willing to conform.

Wings and bodies feeling full,
Leap of faith, spreading wide,
Flapping with a push and pull,
Then slightly pause, into a glide.

Magically the spider weaves,
A perfect net to catch its prey,
Depending on, where it perceives,
How much bounty for each day.

Humans are a different breed,
It’s by learning, they survived,
Instinct’s gone, to tend their need,
Conditioning, has been contrived.

Submitted: Sunday, August 18, 2013
Edited: Monday, August 19, 2013

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  • Valerie Dohren (8/25/2013 9:02:00 AM)

    Very good GR, though I think we do still have some instincts left like the 'flight or flight' syndrome, and the basic instincts for survival, procreation and territorial, albeit supplemented by conditioning.. Enjoyed reading. (Report) Reply

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