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The Ancients


It's my last day with the old giants
 In mourning I hike the lost trails,
 sniffing the aroma of the bark,
 that cinnamon of the forest
 Under tepees of wood
 in a membrane of shadows,
 I stalk the earth, its mammal traces,
 its elusive tracks,
 to sit on a fallen log
 where spiders macramé,
 moss sloping to my knees
 unaware of invisibles within,
 grubbing in their tunnels
 A lizard taps my foot,
 responding, I muse to its touch,
 my thoughts like Indian visions,
 And when daylight mushrooms into night,
 and an owl hoots from cedar,
 I still sit with a lizard on my shoe
 Huddled with the ancients of the woods

Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2017

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  1. Date: 5/13/2017 3:12:00 PM

    Congratulations Mario. A beautiful write! 7 ; )
  1. Date: 5/13/2017 3:00:00 PM

    Congratulations Mario.
  1. Date: 5/13/2017 11:49:00 AM

    Hi Mario. Congratulations, I like this. You are in one with the ancients. In terms of South Africa, my only suggestion is that the tepees do not quite fit. They link with an Indian vision and thus poetic licence can apply, but I personally would not use it in the contest context. I like your poem and imagery very much though. Kind wishes, Kai

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