'Where two poplars crossed over' ~ prose poem
Where
the two poplar trees crossed over onto their deadened sides, on the
north side of the goat path,
is where we turned left. There was no time for sympathy. The two trees had a good long life, and now
are fallen angels, resting with their hearts aligned to each other and to the sandy earth.
We will continue to use the trees as a marker for our trail.
The woods carry a sweet pungent scent from last night's downpour. This spring has been the coolest and wettest that I can remember. The coolness has allowed us to walk more deeply into the woods.
Sometimes we walk into the woods without an itinerary. We agree to turn left, or turn right, where the two poplar trees crossed over onto their deadened sides, on the north side of the goat path.
But then, a yellow finch, or red boy cardinal will flit in our peripheries, arresting our attention; then,
we must respect the sign, and follow it.
Once we saw an entire family of forget-me-nots, and just stared in amazement! We bush wacked north
of those delicate blue and white flowers... only a few hundred feet, to find a shrine. Around hip high,
it was composed of several slabs of blue stone, with small polished rocks laid on top- to represent those
who had sat and meditated there. Taking our packs off, we found two flat rocks to sit, observe, and
listen. We fell into a reverie of silence, and appreciation.
words/photo~kate lamberg (c) '16
is where we turned left. There was no time for sympathy. The two trees had a good long life, and now
are fallen angels, resting with their hearts aligned to each other and to the sandy earth.
We will continue to use the trees as a marker for our trail.
Sometimes we walk into the woods without an itinerary. We agree to turn left, or turn right, where the two poplar trees crossed over onto their deadened sides, on the north side of the goat path.
But then, a yellow finch, or red boy cardinal will flit in our peripheries, arresting our attention; then,
we must respect the sign, and follow it.
Once we saw an entire family of forget-me-nots, and just stared in amazement! We bush wacked north
of those delicate blue and white flowers... only a few hundred feet, to find a shrine. Around hip high,
it was composed of several slabs of blue stone, with small polished rocks laid on top- to represent those
who had sat and meditated there. Taking our packs off, we found two flat rocks to sit, observe, and
listen. We fell into a reverie of silence, and appreciation.
words/photo~kate lamberg (c) '16
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