Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Dead Wood


Each year it gets harder to say good-bye to the mountains.
Cool air envelops a silver morning - high. I look down at the clouds
as they encase tips and tops, red maple and sweet gum, then settle
into the the valleys and towns.

Smells from the paper mill seem harsh this morning. I'm embarrassed
that the trees smell the fragrance of their own mushy death when
the wind is just right and lays that fragrance like a cremation over the clouds.

I wonder when I get back next summer if the cypress and slippery elm
I have come to know will still be there, or will I smell their pulp instead
as they scent the others with their demise. Perhaps they will be there, still,
and I will see their offspring growing there beside them.

13 comments:

Peggy said...

Wonderful poem about nature and its interaction with man. You really do a good job of conveying the feel of the scene.

Sheelonee Mukherjee said...

i love mountains and your lines bring out their beauty.:)

Heavens2Betsy said...

This is so lovely, lyrical and poignant. You made me feel for the trees Judy. penny

Marbles in My Pocket said...

Beautiful write, Judy. Very vivid and sharp. Nice one!

http://charleslmashburn.wordpress.com/2011/10/23/the-wolf-and-the-rose/

thingy said...

Oh, beautiful and sad. What an interesting perspective, thinking of of the trees feelings. I like that.

Morning said...

honest feelings on season's changes, thrilled to see you in.

profound piece.

Ann said...

I'm glad you have a place that's so close to your heart, Judy. You caught it beautifully.

Lynne said...

Wonderful poem, Judy. You exhibit such a unique perspective here. Thank you for sharing the beauty of your mountains.

Anonymous said...

Judy
You are so fortunate to have such a beautiful place to spend a part of the year...CA

Anonymous said...

Judy
You are so fortunate to have such a beautiful place to spend a part of the year...CA

clsostarich said...

Very powerful images and feelings here, great job on this one.

Vivek said...

The mountains seem to come alive. So evocative.

Mary said...

One never knows what one will see when one returns again! Sad but true. One can always hope the good will remain or that something even more beautiful will take its place.