dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: woods

My memory of you

Floats in the river in the woods

Behind my house.

It sings louder than the water

Washing it smooth

And warms the leaves’ arthritic hands,

It heals me too.


Sunburned feet sink

Into the stretchy black abyss,

Into the woods’ dark holes

Into the dark pond mud,

And slide across the cool concrete basement floor.

Then propelled by springs, flailing fingers reach

To the top of the sprinkler,

Into the popsicle box at the back of the freezer,

For the fireworks as they burst above the pond.


Billboards have snatched
Beauty from the breeze.

Now people say
Stay in the canoe,
No shoes, no trips
Into the cornfield.

Leave the pet raccoon
In the woods 
And get a rabies shot.

People splatter paint
The colors of the wind-
That’s art, you see,

But you’d have to
Go to a museum.

 


The songs of the creek

Are silenced at its surface by a

Thick frozen wall,

So the wind

Creeps up leaf-covered hills

And climbs the trees,

Rustling their dried leaves

That hang

Like a billion beetle carcasses

Tacked on

Steel spider web branches.

It scratches out tunes

Until the creek

Can bear no more

And splits its icy barrier,

Proudly bubbling up superior melodies

And whipping the wind

Into froth, dashing it

Against the rocks.