This Life
Now I sip this wine as red as the sky this morning
maroon, almost, just above the pines on these last
ridges of the Appalachians, where Georgia clay
soon gives way to the sand of ancient seas.
It's fall, and the maple trees are yellow,
so brilliant in the early sun against the longleaf green.
I wanted to take you out in that bright day,
along some ridge where I would park and point
to you the green horizon, the possibilities from which
I choose to fashion this calm life.
Did I say calm? Appearances are deceiving.
The steady way in which I learn the landscape,
the history of each place I've lived, the flora--
see the wild ginger there? tear that heart-
shaped leaf and sniff its clove-like scent--
is but a palliative for the vertigo of change.
But what I cannot place in some still center of earth or sky
is now subsumed by will into this smaller canvas.
poem by Anita D-G
Propeller trillium
Bird's Foot Violet
Photos by Tom G at Fort Mountain State Park, Georgia (April 2008)
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