Mountain water hurries over rocks
searching for the ocean.
Along a dusty road
the trees leave the mountain.
the sky gathers greyness and weight
and pushes itself upon us blanketing us with
anticipation in the stillness and the stirring smell of approaching snow.
First the sap runs, then drum drum drums
drop by drop into the buckets.
Soon to be simmered, then rolling boiled into maple syrup.
Oh that sweet sweet nectar of the mountain.
To stand in the quiet
and witness the beauty and transience of a single moment
expands the soul.
The laughter and song of the brook
are part of the mountain’s music.
This is the surface of sound.
She waits at the edge of the woods for Dudley, her dog friend.
Waiting to flash her tail to signal the start of their mountain romp.
But Dudley is not in the car as the doe seems to hope.
Dudley is in heaven now, running with the wind.