a summit along the
Alleghenies. How can you not
walk the earth and feel
the hidden innuendo of
tribes and shamans making
offerings to the crafter
of this place. How can
you fail to sense the
fact of a holler and the
truth of a
primordial grove of mountain
laurel it conceals from
the faint. Rare moments are
everywhere to be seen
by the feeling of the heart
in the ever-present space
its feet tread upon.
It is here
that the flatter lands
and ambling slopes
turn upward toward
the sky. A red shale
mountain along the
edges of the mountains;
an inkling of rocks
climbing out of the earth.
A true foothill
of and in its own right.
It is here,
right here
where I stand
upon this earth
on my own two feet.
Leaving my car
just along the side of
the road so my heart
could sing.
Here.
I Hear The Wasp
I hear the wasp
at the front door;
banging into
the screen again,
and again, and again.
It is as if its wings
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