Hallway to Nowhere

Tag: mountains

  • The Bones Of The Earth Are The Waters Of The Sea (Poem)

    When I was a child, I lived by the sea.

    I swam in its waters and played on its shores.

    Grey-bearded cypress trees and ancient oaks

    Were my beloved friends,

    And sea serpents taught me the beginnings of wisdom.

    Now I live in the mountains far from any ocean.

    I walk on their trails and gaze at their peaks.

    Brightly garbed maples and hickory trees

    Are my present companions,

    And the bones of the earth counsel me on patience.

    On a walk I picked up a stone and held it to my ear.

    I did not hear the roar of vast waves.

    But I did hear faint echoes of half-forgotten susurrations

    Reminding me that I am loved.

    The past is with us always.

  • Glory In The Mountains (Poem)

    It was not petrichor, this scent of rain.

    The path as I walked had previously

    Been dampened by nocturnal showers.

    The trees glinted with moisture,

    And the sodden ground muffled my footsteps.

    No, this was the balm of continued precip

    That joined the falling leaves, the cooling winds,

    And the shortening light

    As messengers all of season’s change.

    Glory in the mountains.

  • Geographical Luck (Poem)

    The rains have arrived,

    Remnants of the hurricane.

    If I go outside and lift my face,

    Will I taste the salt tang of gulf waters,

    Hear the faint sound of Parlez Nous A Boire drift on the wind,

    Catch the tantalizing scent of my father’s gumbo?

    Or will I find the salt of tears cried by all who’ve lost,

    Hear the shriek of a roof as it is torn away,

    And smell the smoke from fires that cannot be quenched?

    Nostalgia is easy for me,

    For I am in the mountains and far from this devastation.

    I am geographically lucky at the moment.

  • Enough (Poem)

    What is enough?

    The cooler air of evening

    After the heat of a summer’s day.

    The petrichor that heralds

    The relief of a dry spell.

    The bright color of tigerlillies

    Enlivening the yard.

    The peace found in mountains

    Distant with a covering of smoke.

    Any of these.

    All of these.

    Let us rejoice and be glad.

  • Stay (Poem)

    I think I’ll stay just a little bit longer.

    Life here in the mountains can still surprise me.

    A wood turner who makes steampunk lamps.

    A chef who practices traditional Chinese medicine.

    A professor who tickles trout for photos .

    A dear friend here from far away who is found to be a distant relative.

    (And that latter, I’m convinced, is some sort of Appalachian magic-

    Because in the mountains ALL folks are related!)

    And that’s just to mention people.

    If I were to start talking about these things.

    The way the sky looks when a storm is about to hit.

    The Canadian geese and the train whistle that help rhythm my day.

    The greenery of the town, and my back yard in particular.

    (Ere the six old trees that stand sentinel come down in a bad wind,

    I might not live to write again.)

    And music. Sigh.

    The music strikes a visceral cord in me.

    The same wail that I heard in the old Cajun songs runs through songs.

    So at the end of the day, I feel at home.

    One of my trees.

    And how could I leave a place that produces music like this?