- Pillars
of slash pine,
- erect
and unbroken in line
- as
the columns of the Parthenon,
- emerging
from the spiked fans of palmetto,
- silent,
then breathing
- with
the surf sound of breeze in their crowns.
- Nearby
are treble notes of birds and insects.
- Human
sounds on the perimeter
- are
constant, but here still few enough
- to
stand apart from one another.
- Sun,
in the middle of the day
- silver-plates
palmetto edges
- so
they can only be seen through narrowed eyes.
- Looking
west, light through leaves and edges of bark
- is
like a candle glowing through a slice of agate.
- Green
and gold and bronze: luminous
- or
light-eating dense,
- all
against a sky as blue as nothing else but sky.
- I
discover spots of tiny wildflowers,
- on
the margins of woods,
- like
bits of lost jewelry under a carpet edge.
- I
fought my way here
- as if I were fighting for the surface and air
- from ten fathoms deep.
- When,
after all, the road spilled ahead
- like
a shiny ribbon torn from a gift,
- I
thought I would split
- from wanting to laugh and cry together,
- as
if I were a ripe pod
- hanging on an autumnal branch,
- a
polished shell breaking
- to send little winged seeds of delight
- flying to every wind.
- As
if I were suddenly in love,
- as
if I were breathless with love.
- As
the planet reckons time,
- this
land is a newly budded leaf
- on a new-grown continent.
- Growth
here is shallow-rooted
- expecting to fall and resurrect.
- Shallow
roots suit me.
- When
I reach too deep in old dirt
- I
grow stony and cold.
- Sweet
as water from a just-discovered spring
- are
the songs of birds I don’t know
- and
greetings from fellow-travelers, just met
- and
the living artery of the road between the pines.
- Damp-eyed,
I laugh out loud to myself,
- and the sound makes me laugh and cry again
- and my laugh runs away on the ribbon road
- and climbs to the crowns of the pines.
- Sheri
L. Lohr
- 1/22/00
- Long
Pine Key Camp
- Everglades
National Park
-
|
