green mtn state

I'm finishing up a visit to mom in VT; tomorrow to NYC to be with Ava, my elder daughter, as she graduates with a masters in education. Here's a short poem inspired by eastern hiking:

Birch Poem

Suppose that old birch, its bark rolled
like a papyrus scroll, sent out its skin
for publication. What might a birch
poem say? It might reveal
the mystery of trees, not how
but why they breathe our poison,
exhale it as oxygen. How it hurt
to have that heart carved in its bark.
Reveal that it loves even the grubs
who chew its wood,
the woodpeckers who
poke holes to eat the grubs.
It might say simply:
I tend my roots
as I reach for the sky.


I'm waiting for someone to join the conversation - meanwhile, I'm working on the 2010 schedule. The objective is to have no objective. I'm not working on it. BeWell!