Shades of Cedar Grove way

photo by Hans Helm of Ken J. (McPilchuck)

Along Goodell Creek beyond where roads end,
Is a lovely little forest near the river bend.
The ground is like carpet that from a glen,
Lush and growing green with sword fern and moss to blend.

Among the hardwoods ancient Western red cedars grow,
Pillars of primeval past and standing sentinels of the fro.
With thick brown bark covered with moss.....oh how sublime,
They grasp the earth telling the world they are really only mime.

Now, I walk among them and hear their call,
Faint whispers in the wind to howling in the fall.
What a lovely little forest they have etched for home,
Above them now squawks the black raven from the Picket Range of roam.

Beneath them in the dirt are the tracks of many deer,
They wander aimlessly about the forest floor like walking on pier.
And in their shadows I take a deep breath,
Not wanting to be elsewhere, not even, in death.

What stories they could tell.....listening.....as I sit here,
And marvel at their ageless strength.....how.....I love it dear.


KJM
5-18-2001
all rights reserved
~ inspired by the Beat Revival Camp at Goodell Creek ~