aspen trees
where nobody goes
flaunt their yellow tops
as if it matters
to elk and bears
their leaves change color
like faded pages
of an ancient book
beginnings and ends
nobody sees anymore
in a valley between fingers
of forgotten forest
a small town hosts a wanderer
back from hiking to 11,000 feet
loving the joy and pain
clouds sprinkle snow like salt
on those who used to come
for what, I try to guess
maybe they got older
trudging slower
resting more
dealing with change
observing small things
jeeps and cars can go downhill
but can they go back up?
and gas is two dollars cheaper
than where most of you live
I love these posts. I think I am on a parallel journey, also in a desert. I wonder if we'll end up at an abandoned mine or a spring with a bearing garden?
ReplyDeleteDear Anonymous, What nice comments you write, assuming you are the same as before. A spring with a bearing garden in the desert--nice. More clues please.
Deletegolden aspens shake
ReplyDeletetheir tousled heads
we are one hand
clapping in the wind
aren't you?
Yes, Lois! I am usually one had clapping, unless my other self wishes to join.
DeleteNice poem.
Superb images.
ReplyDeleteDear Sharon, the question remains open. Does it matter to elk and bears? Have you figured it out? Are there creatures besides the passing human that can perceive the golden yellow? I believe there are. What does it do to them? Do bears dream of honey, when the aspen tree changes its color?
ReplyDeleteToti, I often discount senses of beauty and inspiration in the minds of animals. Your take on this is stimulating to me--as an artist speaks to an adventurer.
Delete"Toti: Do bears dream of honey, when the aspen tree changes its color." What a delicious line!!
DeleteDear Sharon, as if it matters.... this full hearted isweet ntuitive energy laden intention that gives rise to beauty community pleasure joy expression art silent coloring of aspen confident in its action draws to itself in such rare air such comraderie as here gather the few here who when else might be in the same room.and are here because it matters Sharon Toti Lois we are the bears bees butterflies sensing underground roots an feelin the Callie matters..... of where how when love and thank you for your sharing here and your spontaneous visits in the virtual air
ReplyDeleteLove Kathabela and poets on site
Writing in the dark of morning...in the tiniest font... the Call ....matters...
ReplyDeleteDear Kathabela, writing in the dark of morning in the tiniest font, in a flow of joined thought, as James Joyce might have put words together.
DeleteIt is for beauty, community, expression, art, color-of-aspen, that I come. And with the few who might someday gather like bees and butterflies in a room together, do for now share in the virtual air—because it matters, because we can, and for the pleasure there.
As usual you make wonderful photographs.
ReplyDeleteThat said you have written a remarkable line,
“How strong is the life that keeps me from the underground.”
Dear Alex, Thank you again for joining me and for your encouraging thoughts.
Delete