Perched on top the telephone
pole, a cavity carved out there,
a family of Woodpeckers lives
on Prosperity Lane, a lightly
traveled country road. Here
one is blessed to see
black and white patterns
against a blue sky as these
birds fly between poles and
tree limbs in the delight of
an April breeze.
Their call is something akin to
a chuckle, a childish delight,
for surely they own this lovely
green land, lawn stretching
far out, dotted with dandelions
and blackberry vines.
On any given day one who walks
this county lane can hear the
drumming of these clever birds,
living alongside the Mountain
Bluebird, Quail and Wild Turkey.
They drum to annonce their
territorial claim.
As in Gold Rush days these birds
have their golden reward of
acorns which they bury in pantries
of trees, poles and fallen logs.
Once again, the drilling is heard
as we walk through these Northern
California woods. Look closely
at the Ponderosa Pine. You will
find it studded with acorns. The
Acorn Woodpecker, ever industrious,
is satisfied that his is the best
of all worlds.
saguaros
guardians of the sonora
a battalion wafting
in one hundred degree heat
standing sentry on granite slopes
vertical green etches
in carmel cliffs
literally--litter the foothills
rising up the mountain
saguaros fall away
ocotillos remain
their leafy tentacles flailing
like upside down tarantulas
dotting the crevices and shelves
along with mexican oak
climbing higher
ocotillo give way
to arizona cypress, alligator juniper,
and too many nondeciduous oaks to name
desert? what desert?
temperature's dropped to sixty four
at six thousand feet
aspen and maple emerge
a little further
along come all the conifers
tall dark forests of
douglas fir and ponderosa pine
nearing the summit there's...
snow? not snow. in august?
no, not snow. really?
nine thousand feet
corkbark fir and a
couple of spruce
it's now a cool
fifty two
town on top
we stop
baby needs hoody
and hot chocolate
grandpa needs
to fathom it all
fifty miles,
six thousand five hundred feet
below
it's one hundred and three
sky island
not overrated
The cry of an eagle floats across a distant peak,
bear tracks visible in the Spring thawing snow
Sunlight, spreading its dance upon the land,
the Ponderosa Pine and Aspen in bloom
The glaciers look down smiling the higher you climb,
searching for that redemption never offered below
The wolf trails the hare back inside its snowy den,
the road to all new entry having now been cleared
Permission never asked for, granted, as the music starts,
it’s early May in the Rockies—the January of renewal
In a celebration of new life, flowers wrap the landscape like ribbon,
tying close the promises as good wishes on a Christmas morning
It’s springtime even on the highest peak, and old questions lost of meaning
now seem gone away...
Reborn in the arrival of yet another desperate beginning
—holding nothing back
(Columbia Falls Montana: September, 2003)
If I may quote from Joyce Kilmer's poem "Trees" a line:
(His poem "Trees" is an all-time favorite verse of mine!)
"I think that I shall never see, a poem lovely as a tree!"
(I suppose there are few who with that lyric would disagree.)
A spreading sycamore with its dancing leaves of jade,
Provides a nest for robins and an inviting summer shade.
Ah! The beauty of crimson maple leaves carpeting the lawn;
The shimmering dew gracing a ponderosa pine at dawn!
Mighty oaks shed their emerald leaves that we held in adoration;
In fall their bare limbs reach heavenward as if in supplication!
There are so many species of trees - I could babble on ad infinitum!
But, never mind, humankind could never survive without 'em!
'Tho I like trees and Joyce Kilmer's ode to trees, I have a little beef:
I hardly enjoy raking and disposing of each and every doggone leaf!
The cry of an eagle floats across a distant peak
bear tracks visible in the spring thawing snow
Sunlight, spreading its dance upon the land
the Ponderosa Pine and Aspen in bloom
The glaciers look down smiling the higher you climb
searching for that redemption never offered below
The wolf trails the hare back inside its snowy den
the road to all new entry having now been cleared
Permission never asked for, granted, as the music starts
it’s early May in the Rockies—the January of renewal
In a celebration of new life, flowers wrap the landscape like ribbon,
tying close the promises like good wishes on a Christmas morning
It’s springtime even on the highest peak, and old questions lost of
meaning now seem gone away...
Until reborn in the arrival of yet another desperate beginning,
—holding nothing back
(From My Novel 'Searching For Crazy Horse': Published 2011)
Song From The Mountaintop
Columbia Falls, Montana- September, 2003
The cry of an eagle floats across a distant peak
bear tracks visible in the spring thawing snow
Sunlight, spreading its dance upon the land
the Ponderosa Pine and Aspen all in bloom
The glaciers look down smiling the higher you climb
searching for that redemption never offered below
The wolf trails the hare back inside its snowy den
the road to all new entry having now been cleared
Permission never asked for, granted, as the music starts
it’s early May in the Rockies—the January of renewal
In a celebration of new life, flowers wrap the landscape like ribbon,
tying close the promises like good wishes on a Christmas morning
It’s springtime even on the highest peak, and old questions lost of meaning
now seem gone away...
Until reborn in the arrival of yet another desperate beginning,
—holding nothing back
Words of thoughts,
Thoughts of words,
And the walls that separate us,
Move aside as necessary.
Itineraries un-kept,
As un-kept yards that offer
Little shelter to the dogs
Beneath the ponderosa pine trees,
Swaying to the rhythms
Of the wild and wandering winds,
Crossing mountains and desserts and seas,
Where sailors sing
And send upon the ocean breeze,
A song for the beloved.
Aspen, ponderosa pine, blue spruce
pink glacier-cut rock, scree, ravens
gray jay, peregrine falcon, hawk.
We climb to 11,000 feet in three days,
camp at Lawn Lake for three days. Alpine
tundra. Elk, bighorn sheep, marmot.
Tileston Meadows, ticks in grass,
rock face of Mummy Mountain.
Binoculars show pink cracks in gray rock.
Stoke gas stoves, play cards.
Boil water, set up tarps, lay out
sleeping bags, hang bear bag.
Watch crescent moon slice into
Fairchild Mountain. Moonlight
makes a mosque of the rocks.
Yellow aspen splash in dark green
spruce and pine. Gullies where streams
slash during spring snowmelt.
One rock, feather or flower worth
more than money. Need no wallet,
keys. Just clothes for fur.
All day climb toward saddle to see
what's on other side. One hawk floating
among bare peaks and over valleys.
Wind at 13,000 feet
turns to sleet. Turn back from peak,
take boulders two at a time down.
Winter moves into mountains.
Then we fly from Denver to New York
where it's still summer.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.