Michael G. Smith
January 2015

stops,
      fingers a volcanic outcrop
            roofed mostly in duplex lichen,
                  one of the tenacious earthmakingmen
                        helming a weathering like and unlike

wind
      and sun and rain – thick-skinned
            operatives saturated with clarity
                  at times breezy, bright and merry,
                        their many modes furthering the world's

en-
      jambment – recomposing log nurses ten
            alders, elfin firs to sprout in their future
                  shadows, nothing microminor
                        about a percolated spring's rambles to an icy

creek's
      once-in-many-decades flood wreaking
            pick-up-stick behemoth-log dams'
                  slow-pooled jamb
                        trout rests and paper-packed poets'

writs
      of bits
            into bosomed ash-heaps
                  head-deep
                        in the tree-tower boughs sifting the given

light.

This poem was written while the author was a writing resident of the Spring Creek Project (Oregon State University) at the HJ Andrews Experimental Forest.

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