Greetings, poetry lovers!

Here’s a poem I wrote during my family’s Easter weekend visit to the lodge at Longmire, Washington, up on a flank of Tahoma (Mount Rainier). Clumsy and ungainly, not really edited, but I’m not sure I want to change it all.

LONGMIRE

I belong with the trees

that I don’t come up to their knees

and I don’t give a toss

with my toes walking in the thick moss.

I find a branch for a walking stick–

that’s the kind of thing that makes me tick.

How I love to take walks

among glacial deposits of rocks.

When I hear a raven croak

I laugh at the private joke.

I hear the frogs call at dusk

by the pond that smells of sour musk.

What a noise the river makes!

My teeth chatter, my whole body aches.

Eye to eye with a cloud

and my heart beats loud.