It's a day you'd have noted, Captain, in your journal
two centuries ago.
It's nearly November, unseasonably warm for northern Arizona.
We went up into the mountains today,
My sisters and I.
The San Francisco Peaks are scarred with ski trails and cables,
But you'd have memorized them as you memorized
Idaho's pristine Bitterroots.
The frostbitten fragrances of dead leaves swept into
the shimmering whisper of the aspens in the breeze.
Did you hear?
Brilliant mountain bluebirds and stellar jays played tag
among the crowded white tree trunks and clean shadows.
I wanted to point out fine details for you to write: the glass-smooth
wood, its bark torn back by magnificent antlers;
fresh deer scat; the spruce tree stand; the snowy peaks,
just out of reach.
The sun kissed my forehead and now it stings.
Did you see?
Were you just about to tell us these very things?
Rest a while and drink the day.
After all, it's nearly November.
9 comments:
I love the imagery. Perfect. Great poem, great post.
Oh, this is wonderful!
I loved it, Judith.
Brilliant poem. Loved the lines
'Brilliant mountain bluebirds and stellar jays played tag
among the crowded white tree trunks and clean shadows.'
Such wonderful imagery... and i love this line: "The sun kissed my forehead and now it stings"
This is just glorious, I loved it! Such wonderful writing. :-)
Lovely imagery, Judith.
Sounds like a perfect day.
Thank you for sharing.
Judith,
A very beautiful account. I loved the image of the birds playing tag!
Best wishes, Eileen
Your well written words capture an event, create a mood. An enjoyable read!
Judy, I reread this lovely 🥰 poem. I think it is your finest. Your experiences have driven you home, where you belong, among the blue jays and trees, as myself, reminding me of my early youth years spending time in the Black Hills in the Dakotas. Wonderful memories! Thank you. And it was a pleasure reading your work once again.
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