abandoned by the retreat of the glaciers,
now a ghostly dragons back
oxbow lakes long and deep ,
sand and muck on mountian tops
rocks in the valleys,
even now laced with logging roads
and abandoned mines
primordial spirit is evident
giant moose wallow though the endless bogs
just emerged from Ice
the sand permeates into your boots
the alders and ferns turn to jungle
the moment they are given light.
The stumps of half-century old logging camps
sprout impossible coloured mushrooms.
Life is never denied here
heaving bumps of moriane,s and drumlins
geologic gravel
heaved up and left behind
the whole valley an abandoned ghost of cataclysm
surveyed but never settled
rumours of abandoned homesteads
beneath the understory.
A rotting fence rail sprouting from the moss
a mooses skull w/ mushrooms growing from the sockets
Geology is the poetry of time
writing with the hand of rot
sculpting with a million trickling fingers , sanding with the gusts of wind and waves .
Painting it with the circus of leaves and flowers.
i like it nathan. it's good. this poetry of thine.
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