Mountain Mama

~ Meg

Inspired by a hike in the Smoky Mountains this past spring. I’ve added a local track…

Through steep and narrow paths I forge
Where glacier carved the river gorge

The wind in the forest whispers her name
Woodland creatures praise her fame

While sunlight trickles through the branches
Mountain Mama sits on her haunches

Washed with rain and in torrent bathed
Her overflow becomes a cascade

To quench the forest’s eager thirst
To green the foliage, flowers burst

And where leaves and logs in forest lay
She wears the perfume of loamy decay

Then sunlight fades to purple twilight
Emerge the winged creatures of night

Over moonlit treetops, bat wings flutter
Gently worship Earth, their mother

Before the purple fades on the end of day
I bid mother goodnight and go on my way

Published by Meg

Easily amused, never bored and constantly distracted. My creative pursuits include writing, drawing, painting and photography.

73 thoughts on “Mountain Mama”

      1. Not yet. We leave the 19th. I really am unnaturally excited. God, I need a vacation, but coordinating the dogs, eight people, all the arrangements. I miss the days of just me getting on a plane even if it was for work 🙂 But once I’m there … heaven!

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  8. I don’t know why I expected an accent. You have a lovely reading voice! Do you have others? Are you on sound cloud. I’d love to include you on Poets Speak if so. Nice job!

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    1. Thank you, Rob! No I’m not on SoundCloud, but if there’s a way for you to use the MP4 I’d be happy to share. I’ve read two others: Just Burn and Fallen. They can be found under my poetry tag if you want to listen. And thank you again!

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      5. We’ve actually not had too much either. Last storm gave us 4 inches or so and that’s the most this winter. But I don’t want it, lol.

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      4. I’m not that committed to nature that this remark would provoke me. I enjoy the outdoors but I’m just as content to wander asphalt streets and concrete sidewalks. Everything has the potential to be hell as far as I’m concerned. I call your cynical and raise you…

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      5. I was thinking of the line by Mishima and also Nabokovs laugher in the dark. The young cynical nymphet Margot is hungry and looks outside at the gorgeous sunshine, it’s beautiful but she can’t pawn it.

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