Into The Interior
Blame in the incessant voices of the rain,
praise in the birdsong after the storm.
Tramping where cascades leap and roll,
clothed in the slow wind from the shore.
Sunrise pulls back the mist and cold,
streams chatter news from the mountain.
Sunset sends out a dark insect swarm,
bones make a mattress on the forest floor.
Beyond the last outpost and stony track
into pitiless wilderness, crunching through
wastes of ice where frozen branches crack
and ghostly boomers cry: who are you?
This poem is part of the "Natural Causes" collection of poems with illustrations by Geoff MacEwan.
For more information, go to Poems and Etchings - Natural Causes.