Among Ponderosas

Wolfgang Ertl wolfgangertlart.com

Wolfgang Ertl
wolfgangertlart.com

From the Sound
the snow`capped mountains
rise up to their steep heights
over smoky hills

The highway East
remains closed in the winter
snow too deep for the plows
among ponderosas

All that lives there
man beast bird winters`over
or is never heard from again
bones gone to scree

Yet the forest’s scent
come June is not that of decay
born of our interminable rains
but of pine`needles

And the forest’s song
is not the lament of the owl
but the kraak of nutcrackers
the screeches of eagles

“We live too low, too far down
the mountain to hear
the Canyon Wren sing . . .” ~ John Dofflemyer, Among the Pines

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About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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4 Responses to Among Ponderosas

  1. a paean to the natural wonder of the inspiriting Cascades

    Like

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