Footpath

Amicalola Falls - North Georgia

Used to, the mountain and waterfall

were a place of wonder.

Amicalola, the Cherokee called it,

Tumbling Water,

Childhoods spent climbing, climbing,

mist kissing our faces.

Listening to the flowing until we reach

the top

of the falls.

Looking out over pristine mountains

Seeing an array, blue green, hunter, sage, olive,

Or yellow, red, orange and brown, in Fall,

Ripe persimmon sweet tart upon my tongue.

Learning the sharp scent

and acrid bite of long leaf pine,

Eastern hemlock green and lush

in spite of winter’s chill.

I spy leafless cracking limbs

painting their puzzle pattern

against the sky,

all vast, beautiful,

primeval.

.

And then

roads came;

their presence so innocuous.

Deer path become wagon path,

become gravel road.

In due course, the stink of asphalt

lays claim to the land

covering moccasin-worn footpaths

Grading, dozing, paving.

Retirees and millionaires build

MacCabins in the woods

Tesla and Range Rover exchanged

for three-wheeled monsters

gnawing through untamed land.

Stacked logs and three story balconies

Create bizarre juxtapositions

dotting the ridge.

Here, bare trees struggle

on denuded escarpment.

There, blackberry bramble, fern,

flaming wild azalea

are stripped from the land.

Oak, hickory and lace-bark elm

are felled with abandon

to create a better view.

Splitting calico canopy

so lights of play houses

glow across blue green mountains

like Christmas has come.

Acrid ash of far off factories,

exhaust from grinding chicken trucks

and logging trucks

and eighteen wheelers

spewing their noxious roadside poison

labor up the steep, curving arteries

to highways(Too near! Too near!)

Once majestic, life-giving,

a slowly dying forest becomes

a grotesque blighted reflection

of greed and corruption.

where bear

deer

fox

and raccoon

lie dead on the asphalt

struck down by too fast cars

racing, racing

curve and incline.

Dreaming

reminds me

that I know a secret

the secret of life itself.

pressing my ear

to wavy bark

listening to the lullaby

that sweet gum sings.

No need

for death and destruction.

Listen, listen it sighs

Hear my secret.

Remember childhood,

acorn cap tea cups

and dandelion salads.

Breathe in earthy scents of loam

and hemlock and honeysuckle.

Wonder in the green gold chrysalis

of a monarch

the shell of the cicada

Drink from clear streams,

mica, gold, and quartz

sparkling beneath.

Dream of a tomorrow when

buildings crumble,

stone chimneys fall

Where all that is left

are sprouting white pine

and voracious kudzu vine.

Tomorrow will come;

when tumbling waters

from mountain peaks

require that the young climb

until they reach the top

and are breathless

with the new-born sacred wonder of it all.

KSA