Scot’s Gulf
By
James R. Smith
Gravity
and Young Man River
conspire
to part the thighs
of Mother Earth
And, O!
Clear pools, home to
trout
and from yielding stone
there is fertile ground,
poplars and
hemlocks
And oaks and pines and
thistles and laurel
and trillium
trillium
trillium
By
James R. Smith
Gravity
and Young Man River
conspire
to part the thighs
of Mother Earth
And, O!
Clear pools, home to
trout
and from yielding stone
there is fertile ground,
poplars and
hemlocks
And oaks and pines and
thistles and laurel
and trillium
trillium
trillium
The wilderness beckons.
Cold, clear pools.
A carpet of green ferns along the forest floor.
Virgin Falls, from a cave, down the cliff, and back to the netherworld.
The old forests clothe the yielding slopes.
And, along the way, one is never alone...
...never alone...
...never alone.
...never alone...
...never alone.
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