spring moss

the trees are empty.
the woods are quiet.
the ribbon of creek running towards the highway
only speaks when i hold my breath.

the moss snuggles the edge of the bank;
sweet to my probing fingers,
cool and alive and forgiving.

there is rusted, jagged, industrial iron remnants of an old mill.
a lone debarker as we called it.
it recalls the voice of my grandfather
pointing with two fingers clamping a cigarette, sitting on his heels, eye level with me
calling out the parts of Mac Barne’s sawmill;
i must have been 8.

the ribbon creek welcomes my toes.

when i close my eyes and hold my breath
i hear the ghosts of my people gone
and they become interwoven lines in the bars of my poetry refusing to rhyme.

the leaves and the moss and the smell of the woods lower me until i am conduit;
the lives of more than mine
probing through my spirit
like fingers in spring moss anew.

Reviews

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

Here...here is where I feel my native soul fall free...in those cool breezes of your words... in the nuances of your memories....I too close my eyes and hold my breath, I feel the echoes of their windy voices chanting prayers; pains. I feel the heat of the fires they burn in sacrifices and the earth beneath their feet. This is where we became kindred...this is where we will return. Stunning work X!

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

I'm here again...listening ...feeling...being...your a healer X...even if you don't know it.

[Kelly Scheppers]

...indeed!

[paul sal.....]

sure would like to see a picture of the place and see if it matches the painting brushed onto my mind by your words. Oh yeah, don't forget to take a breath!

[barleygirl]

As an outdoor seeker & nature writer myself, I am delighted to read your well-stated observations. The start of your poem feels like stepping into the quiet forested scene, not yet interacting with surroundings, just observing . . . as your poem goes along, your dynamic descriptions feel more & more like the narrator is becoming part of the forest scene. Great description of the outdoors provoking long-standing memories & connections (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Kelly Scheppers]

You are a poet of extraordinary words that always find their way into the crevice of life. How good it is to see you posting again, Matt!

[Coyote Poetry]

Powerful and wonderful use of words my friend.
"when i close my eyes and hold my breath
i hear the ghosts of my people gone
and they become interwoven lines in the bars of my poetry refusing to rhyme"
The above lines. A place we shall, all know one day. Thank you my friend for sharing the outstanding poetry.
Coyote

[m.s.early]

Thank you Coyote. Your replies are always insightful and encouraging

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome my friend.