Ilex
Ilex
wet toes
ugly duck
we take inventory
walking the Understory.
the Holly hackers have been back
with their regressive, nearsighted attacks.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
where were they* when the logging company
stormed the place, razing crown land, reducing a
Forest to a glum Valley of naked, fractured Stumps?
She heals the way She heals, and if Holly is the cure,
who are we to say otherwise? richly dense sappy Wood,
bright red Berries for the Feathered strewn along the path.
sacrilege! our druidic alter egos tsk tsk as elven ears retract.
next we come to_Mud_Mud_and_more_Mud_. more than we've
ever encountered before. sure to rot the Roots that bind it.
perhaps west-coast-Autumn-streaming into Winter: Season
when great drift nets in layered grays winnow for a diminishing
return on ol' Sol. does all this Rain foreshadow Blight?
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
we sidestep, hurtle, jump, and dive, our walk a
sudden sodden slip and slide; but unease
we hold inside, bending low for fuzzy
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
felts, first peek at Spring's Nettle.
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
)))))))))))) Lactarius ((((((((((((((
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Rosy Gomphidius, Yellow-Gilled Russula.
a lone Trumpeter Swan, forlorn, floats by on vast
sleety expanse; as six kindred, necks outstretched, honk
overhead, hesitant, but with dispirited silence are met.
* they, here, could just as well be you, or we. As in where were you, or where were we, when this destructive industrial activity was wreaking havoc on the tender Earth? Thirty three years later and the forest is ever so slowly making a comeback.
YOU ARE READING
The Smell of Snow
PoetryFrom my home on a tiny island, I smell snow as it begins to fall on the mountains across Baynes Sound. A smell that goes directly up your nostrils with a slight hint of metal or ozone, a bit like refrigerant. And of course I love to confirm my sense...
