SNAG
I stand, panting from the climb
and look
at this dead snag of Woodpeckered Pine wood
clinging
against all odds to it's footing
at the very edge
it was so sunlit, breeze blown, bird loved and alive
there on it's ledge
in my girlhood.
I used to look about me
at my valley home
and see it as not good
to be so walled in by mountains
On one, this Pine tree stood
against the sky
up to this tree climbed I
in order to climb it
see what lay beyond my cell
Like the proverbial bear
I saw another mountain.
Wondered at it long and well
Once 'Over the mountain'
Life did battle with me
now, I stand beside this snag
of Pine tree, once so pithy
and see quite clearly that
though things are very changed
and aged and even somewhat bitchy
it's still good to be back
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