Poem #2: In Shenandoah

In Shenandoah

The woods were yours –
you quarantined me there
afar from other hearts
and lungs, the air our very own.

Leaves stole the sun,
clouds too. We hid
in colored caps from bears
and other ursine strangers.

The fruit you brought
for us was not enough,
and so we hunted
apple trees together.

We surfed on rocks
and branches, skipping
stones across dirt paths
where sober boulders slept.

I scaled dead trunks
to try the skies and tore
my only pair of jeans. You
held my cares below.

At rest we studied
shadows, light tales
whispered by waves,
slight and indistinguishable.

The wind’s sylvan song bent
branch silhouettes, unveiling
distant glades, endless hills
and homes long ago abandoned.

We sleuthed to sunset, apples
always absent. Trees hung bare,
some not trees at all. Leaves
crunched beneath our crestfallen retreat.

We forsook your woods alone,
your heart’s repose surrendered.
At dusk we drifted home apart
and never spoke again.

@NBF 4.13.2009

virginiabarn

Virginia, 2005

——————–

Notes

Sometimes I read before I write to help calibrate my brain. Today I began with a few poems from Elizabeth Bishop’s Geography III, “In the Waiting Room” and “Night City.”

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