green, yet yellowing
from late-summer
lack of sunlight
acorns also
dot the ground
chuckling chickadees
and woodpeckers
rustle in the underbrush
causing me to pause
and pay attention
to the sounds
the trail climbs steadily
over rocks and roots
winding through
the thick forest
i must relearn
how to walk this ground
the smell of mushrooms
and wet earth
give way to ferns
near the first view
other peaks' summits
lost in cloud
now they are clearing
at cold river vista
and the sun shines
shade-dappled leaves
dance in a breeze
the rocks are silent
delicate spider webs
tickle my face
how long since someone
passed this way?
the cry of a jay
announces my presence
a vulture glides
on silent wings
over the valley
in the near distance
sits a squat steep hill
like a buddha
now, pine and spruce
are starting to show
their scent fresh
in the cool air
barren, branched trunks
marching into the distance
at north vista
looking down the valley
of otter creek
mountains on either side
houses and fields
dot the landscape
a steep descent
leveling out into
beeches and ferns
an airier feel
lost in my thoughts
i nearly missed it
faded flowers
on the old forest road
washed of summer hues
their petals ragged
an uprooted maple
stretches nearby
a large bumblebee
looking for last pollen
flew lazily away
as i passed
ignoring his wisdom
i hurry along
at the loop's closing
back where i started
the sun has dimmed
behind fresh clouds
the woodpeckers
are now in the trees
Hey, Tom.
ReplyDeleteThanks for putting these poems "out there". I am enjoying reading them and recalling my own, less numerous, times out on the trail. On Sunday, I drove down to the Appalachian Gap on Rt. 17 at sunset and hiked the mile up to Mt. Abraham, bringing my fiddle along on my back. Once I got up to the top, I popped out the fiddle and played a few tunes. My own attempt to bring art and nature together. Glorious evening. Not sure I'll subject the fiddle again to the vagaries of the mountain, gravity, poor traction and waning light. Still, quite memorable.
Rob