I am not the mountain
          I need plank – this from the one who cannot take a hammer
                 to nails when depression closes in.
yet people come, people talk to me.
          This one gives back her hand and whispers:
                  I listen to no music when I sing.
I am high country, yes — but without vistas —
          She nods her head. Today she wants to understand 
                  he doesn’t believe in bridges anymore.

slopes of white bark, pine beetles setting in.

           I’d rather there be real bees the aspen tells
                   the river and the river tells
the mountain. And the mountain turns to me.

About redmitten

author of Cracking Geodes Open, Making Good Use of August, and The Peppermint Bottle. poetry editor for IthacaLit. website: https://toomuchaugust.wordpress.com

8 responses to “>slope

  1. >i dig it. love your work.

  2. >sherry, this is so complex and pure – lovely!

  3. >As all above have said…a couple readings suggest a mantle of responsibility, which I believe we share, with regard to our connection with all that is. And I could be completely wrong and it doesn't matter a bit.Sherry, Could I ask a favor? A young writer/poet whose blog I read had a post recently reading her work and I wondered if you would mind listening to it. Her name is Rachel and here is the link:http://www.rachelvb.com/2011/03/reading-of-two-bodies/#comments. If you have the time. Thank you. xo

  4. >thanks everyone. this was a first draft…something i was working out in my..uh…head(?)….it's awesome to get your responses and know that some of it is working.marylinn- absolutely. i'm off to check out that link.

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