Image borrowed from BingDeep into the northern forests,
in every snow covered canyon,
burrow and cave, beneath crag
and evergreen towers,
spring is stabbing
into the icy heart of winter,
and all the spawn of gestation
ready themselves to blossom
and be born.
There is no man’s track,
no smell of tobacco
or diesel smoke,
no fat zig-zag of tire imprint,
no crumpled power bar wrappers,
no beep, hiss, or tingle of technology.
There is
a snow wraith
that prowls the silence,
its growls striking fear
into the golden puma
and black bruin;
muscles rippling like chiseled marble
beneath its striped mantle;
courageous, pugnacious, hungry, weasel-angry,
a little monster with musk sacs--
the white wolverine.
Though few men have ever seen
the albino carajou, I have,
many times in my mind,
in my fevered dreams, seen
the faint yellow swath splashed
between its powerful shoulders
and the base of its bushy tail,
and the small black-green eyes,
and the razor-sharp fangs
able to crush bone
or bite through a tin roof.
I have seen my skunk bear
sitting back on its haunches
like a dog, shielding its eyes
with a thick paw,
and it has surely seen me,
expects me, welcomes me,
knows that I am coming
leaving the stink of the cities behind.
Glenn Buttkus
November 2010
Listed as #20 over on Magpie Tales 43
Would you like the Author to read this poem to you?
You transported me deep into that pristine virginal forest, with its deliciously fresh air. You know how I love air and snow. I had to open a window today and let the wind blow snow in my face, just for a few seconds.
ReplyDeleteSorry about the volume on my post. I'll look into it. :P
...oh, by the way, you can adjust the volume directly on the DivShare audio stip, just saying.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the tip. Hope you return
ReplyDeleteand listen to me reciting this poem;
just finished my own DivShre mp3.
Glenn,
ReplyDeleteAs a 'city boy', things too distant from a well-maintained, open-air walking park or 'cute' green belt scares the bejeezus out of me.
The wild really is where our 'aesthetic appreciation' understands its dangerous edges. Sublimity: beauty where the hair stands up from witnessing utter power.
Your scaredy-bro,
Trulyfool
I came back and settled in for a listen. It's so enjoyable to have you read your pieces to me, Glenn. Love that snow wraith.
ReplyDeleteThere is a behemoth skunk that lives in my neck of the woods. I might have to post on it sometime soon.
For some reason this reminded me of London or Conrad, something unknowably wild, something from the heart of darkness--but is it the animal or the man? Good poem, on all levels.
ReplyDeleteAh, the escape from the stinky city into the distant forests. Beautiful imagery.
ReplyDeleteA real treat listening to you read this Glenn
ReplyDeleteThank you. I once was a professional
ReplyDeleteactor when the world was younger
and so was I, and I do so enjoy
reading and performing my own
words. Metaphysically, the images
cannot be completely formed until
a voice has shaken the air with
the shape of them.
I loved listening to you. I read your poem aloud first and then I listened. I was reminded of my butterscotch pine in a forest where no Carcajou lives but the only real forest I have ever hiked through. It took me back to a place I will not be able to go to again, in that way. It is lovely how a beautiful poem can transport your soul somewhere in time and take you where your body can not. I know I shouldn't want this but the child in me wants to cuddle with a Carcajou but his claws need to be trimmed first.
ReplyDeleteWolverines are not known for
ReplyDeletetheir affection, but this one,
my skunk bear, would love
a hug; but watch those claws.
no beep, hiss, or tingle of technology
ReplyDeletePeace in our time! LOL
Dear Glen: I'm so getting the northern experience loud and clearly resonants! The wolverine is such an awesome creature and worlds away the real stink! I'd trade the wilderness for the madness any day! Mezmerizing read; so rich your voice which inflects much emotion and vigour! Tour de force! I love your well-chosen words which have much musical synchopation and great alliteration! Awesome!
ReplyDeleteChiccoreal; gosh, thanks for the
ReplyDeletelovely compliment; glad you found
so much within, yourself, my poetics,
and my inflections--and where the
heck was your praise when I strode
the boards and had to pay the rent
with my instrument, me?
This is a wonderful poem, Glen.
ReplyDeleteIt reads like music.
Nature always welcomes - we need to fear only when WE plan to harm it. Loved the contrasts here.
ReplyDeleteWho needs John Denver to celebrate being a country boy! Enjoyed every nauance.
ReplyDelete