I wonder which poem I should read at the library. Any suggestions?
The Mountain
Rooted
darkly down primeval depths,
The
mountain lifts its sunlit slopes skyward.
While
flinty spines dive fervently downward
Between
wetted walls of secret hollows.
Rain
comes, springs burst forth,
The
outward flow becomes a stream.
Seeds
root their way through rock ribs,
Feverishly
anticipating a greater life to come.
Today,
deer and bear and bird range above,
Moles,
foxes and ground squirrels burrow below.
Tomorrow,
quakes may raise cave walls
Into
sunlight and rocky peaks turn sullen.
Inside,
darkness and light dwell side by side,
Languor
weds warmth and joy to abject sadness,
The
living come to bury their dead,
And
the mountain is simply the mountain.
Beverly Gaye Scofield
2012
A Clearing of the Skies
I
feel a clearing of the skies.
The
last drop of rain flings itself
From
the roof's edge, and the wind
Carries
it away to fall in the garden next door.
Little
gray birds flit among the leaves, finding
Sanctuary
upon the gnarly branches of an old orange tree.
Yesterday,
the wind sounded like ancient Aoleus
Dragging
a long, gray beard through protesting grasses.
Today,
it is young and lean, nipping at the clouds
Like
a working dog at the heels of fleecy sheep.
A
mountain's bulk shoulders the vap'rous flock up and over,
Pushing
them on toward anticipating poets.
The
rain endures but the wind abates,
Cloud
tatters cast occasional shadows
Trailing
whispers of departing thunder.
And,
I feel a clearing of the skies.
Beverly Gaye Scofield
2001
Looking for Myself
Wand'ring
paths where no light shines;
Tangled
up in webs and vines;
Misled
by mistaken signs;
Looking
for myself.
Landscape
rising bleak and stark;
Meeting
strangers in the dark;
Arrows
find their bleeding mark;
Looking
for myself.
Eyes
that look but cannot see;
Feet
that run but cannot flee;
Thoughts
that sing but are not free;
Looking
for myself.
Flowers
growing upside down;
Water
burning with no sound;
Shadows
gath'ring all around;
Looking
for myself.
Beverly Gaye Enos
1980
