The Adirondacks

My heart is in the Adirondacks And day by day i drink the courage captured in these mountain heights. The trail winds across the slope where bramble lies like Tangled Truth--Blending Berries and Briars --Bold challenges for hungry wanderers. The great white pine leans low in mountain wind-- but lifts its top again--the living hiding place of antelope and bear--and little things the birds and scurriers finding safety in the needled limbs. The contradictions here abound, The breathless height amid hollow crevices, The stillness--absence of humanity--amid a cacophony of Nature's jumbled cries; the barren rock 'tween rooted evergreens; the toxic elder hiding almond scented mushrooms; the dying elm that shades the sprouting oak; The tumultuous roar of naked storms Belied in the quiet tumble of mountain streams. All these things--these contradictions do but mirror the tortured passion in my breast. Nor in the madding cities or steepled churches hiding frightened people-- nor yet, in tenuous arms of would be lovers-- do i find peace. But only here-- where trembling deer dip cautiously into the water's edge; squirrels scold in unquiet trees, and wild turkeys strut unfrightened across the wind-bare rocks. Here--on a mossy bank-- where the current curves in gurgling smiles around the jutting stones; here in the flickering welcome of mountain shadows the human spirit finds release.