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A fringe of trees standing erect holding back fog-clouds shrouding the high ridges overlooking this valley so named. Known well by each hunter, gatherer and farmer who drew from the valley’s rich land a sense of place and purpose. Known by me now in this Spring of the returning rain.
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Land is the framework for sense of self.
National Land is the framework for a Nation’s sense of self.
Ownership of land is the perpetual struggle between the individual and the commons.
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Journeys Taken
Sitting in the cafe, a table by the window
where the gray light of an overcast sky
touches gently like a familiar voice
softening the hard edges of this day
She came here too
her reasons different from mine
though both seeking a sense of place
she a homeland, me a refuge in nature
Chased down off the mountain by storm
I sip my morning coffee where the tables
are empty of tourists and the faces are brown
A smile in this honest town
The Elk, shy of antlers now, fill the meadow
as I walk early through spring grass
and wildflower and creeks full again
Old buildings standing as testimony
to another people’s home now removed
We each think we own this, we lay claim
only to see it pass from one to another
Are not the resources of this earth
our common inheritance
Is this not the abode for all
For her it was a return
to a home place never seen yet
felt deeply in her very blood
An historic injustice, a trail of tears,
among many trails and many tears
The line of huddled marchers extending
forever back in time and forward
out over the horizon
Some dismiss it
as just another reservation town
A pass-through to reach the great park
I stay and wonder, did she find what she was looking for?
Did I?
Are they not the same
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Descending the Mountain
How does one descend
It seems simple enough
you came up, didn’t you
Yes, the coming up was easy
a youthful step, head up, eyes on the top
singing out to companions, here, this is the trail
come along now, don’t linger
But lingering is what we do
when descending the mountain
With steps carefully placed
each side trail explored, slowly we retrace
Turning to leave, pausing for a final view
extending my hand to that around me
allowing a part of myself to remain
a token of thanks for a moment shared
Putting behind the skree and thin air
and our expansive self
we winnow down, little by little
shedding what now is unessential
or no longer possible
Those attributes that carried us up
well served and faithful are set aside
New skills are learned to
ease our descent
Yet the trail down surprises
Wildflowers not seen, bird song to hear
water so sweet from hidden springs
What is lost in quantity and possibility
is richly replaced in quality
Re-entering the evergreen and hardwood
the trail levels, a stream once cascading now murmurs
I will walk this trail bringing me to the beginning
singing out to companions, here, linger now
taste this air, rest on this bed of pine
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A fringe of trees standing erect, fog-clouds on the mountains, Catalloochee