Forest Chords
—Poems and Photos by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA
CORDS, CHORDS
Those familiar woods—pine snag rising
above manzanita thicket, the great black oak
lifting leafed-again boughs to bless
acorn woodpeckers working its wounds.
A fallen cedar, your chainsaw at work, making
rounds for cord-wood. Bark flaking off
like a worn-out suit, tree’s weathered skin pale
as longbone of a deer. How the dead tree
hummed the length of its life as chainsaw bit in.
Farther south, the bear-clover clearing
with its sacred stone. Granite rooted at a vista
overlooking canyon, its bedrock mortars—
Indian grinding rocks. In memory,
climb the stone and listen for something beyond
the view of sunset. Was this a talking-stone,
catching messages tapped on boulders
miles away? What chords the trees and rocks
into voice as it roots them in ridge?
What roots us there, still, as long as we
trust in woods to keep us?
Wings
NEXT TIME I’LL BRING FLOWERS
I’m following my search dog through forest
when a tiny hovercraft dives straight at me—
iridescent and armed with the tiniest sword.
Hummingbird the Aztec warrior, braver
than his weight in human courage, sword-
bill pointed at my heart. He stops
midair, wings at max-rev; considers orange
radio harness on my chest. Warrior-wings
never pause their too-fast-to-focus action.
Imagine! deep in this dusty droughty
forest, a shimmer bird collecting nectar.
Not here. He understands I am no flower;
simply a human walking in the woods,
wearing orange cordura. Hummer reverses
with gear-shift of wings, zooms away.
Lighting the Road
INFORMATION IN THE DARK
Dim light-flash aslant the bedroom window.
Couldn’t be traffic on our little country two-lane;
too constant, not moving. Not wildfire,
though it’s a long droughty summer. Rhythmic
pulse of blue and red standing. Nothing like it,
to jumpstart imagination. Another accident?
No sirens, no hurry, no sound.
Down our steep drive in the dark, I stopped.
Three tall figures with mag-lights—
slowly illuminating chipseal. Looking for
evidence? As if painting the road with light,
and I was the time-lapse lens. What
might I intuit? Twenty minutes passed.
I was too deep at edge of woods. They moved
on, less acuteness to their search, getting
no more information. They left, a mystery.
Did anyone find anything in the dark?
Road From Town
DEEP IN SIERRA WOODS
The phone rang, another creature missing.
Our target this time, an Afghan tortoise,
local schoolboy’s pet. We loaded our search
dog, drove across the North Fork;
found the address under a canopy of oaks
shedding their leaves. A languid fall afternoon,
breeze calm, but the nights turned chilly;
season turning toward woodstove
and candlelight. At the garden scrap-heap
we scented our dog. She nosed a carrot,
a squash curled like a green donut,
then headed for a tool-shed built staunch
against collapse. Sniffer-dog gravitation—
she began to grovel under the shed’s far corner.
She wouldn’t leave the spot. We guessed
the Afghan tortoise was in Sierra hibernation.
Upper Pond
NATURE HUNT
Come along down the woods trail, past the pond
with lilies, rushes, and a subtle flow
to join the creek and all that lies beyond.
We’ll pry the lid off what we think we know
of a meadow blooming white and yellow.
Here in the midst of forest, budding spring,
can you count how many kinds of willow,
how many different songs the wild birds sing?
That tap-tap, is it Morse code in the blind,
a signal from an unseen hand? a drum?
or bird-beak leaving dot and dash behind
in crypto music for the heart to hum.
A thousands gifts are here in grassy loam.
Your mind can take a meadow with you, home.
Off the Road
QUEEN OF CAMOUFLAGE
Deep in the
woods, past the dead-end
barrier
with its dumped
overstuffed chairs and rusted
appliances, you
might miss me.
I can vanish like
Visqueen flapped
against a
vacant fence. I used to have
a name. On windy
days you might
mistake me for rags
of cloud; in
deep of woods,
I wear the shades of trees. You
won’t see me at all.
Nisenan Village
Today’s LittleNip:
AFTER CLASS
In the grade-school garden, sunflower skeletons past summer—and beyond, a dirt path through oak-woods where the kids have made a village in the Miwok style. Look, three boys go roaming at the edge of wild.
behind the schoolyard
one cedar-bark tepee stands
letting wind sing through
_____________________
Many thanks to Taylor Graham for her wonderful poetic and photographic musings on our past Seed of the Week: Deep in the Woods. As you know, Taylor is the first-ever Poet Laureate of El Dorado County here in California, and she is (and always has been) very active in stirring up readings, workshops, publications (remember Acorn?) and other activities in her area, including the current Facebook page about EDC (www.facebook.com/ElDoradoCountyPoetry/). Now she writes of a new project:
Thought I'd better send you this. El Dorado Arts Council got the idea of a Laureate Trail from our CA Poet Laureate (Dana Gioia)'s tour of all the counties, with readings. So they've got me scheduled with various Poetry Out Loud winners and poets at our county libraries: Placerville in October, Cameron Park in December, El Dorado Hills February, Georgetown April, Tahoe June. I only know who I'm reading with for the first one, so far. Here's the scoop:
El Dorado County Poet Laureate Trail: Friday, October 13, 5:30pm at El Dorado County Library main branch, 345 Fair Lane, Placerville. Sponsored by El Dorado Arts Council. Featured are Poetry Out Loud Ponderosa High School Winner Kaitlyn Stahl; local poet, English teacher, and Martial Arts enthusiast Kate Wells, and county Poet Laureate Taylor Graham. Family-friendly, all ages welcome.
El Dorado County (and Taylor) are to be congratulated for their active approach to their new Poet Laureate program!
—Medusa
(Anonymous Photo)
Celebrate poetry!—and the “edge of wild”!
Photos in this column can be enlarged by clicking on them once,
then click on the X in the top right corner to come back
to Medusa.
