Monadnock
Folks round here call it ‘my mountain’
There are hoards who climb it daily
Striding fast, counting steps
Conquering it by mid-morning
Planting their hands at summit
A touchstone – ‘I was
here’
Rising from the crouch they peer
Around the peak to claim the view
Plan their day as they trek back
Down to the world of cars and noise
Up top there’s the wind
Sometimes a smell of pines
When it rains, there are rivulets
They run along the fissures
Look like silk rippling down
The stone smells metallic
And musty from lichen
That’s when I like it best
That’s when Monadnock is washed
Clean of the hoard’s noise
I sometimes think of the Abenaki
Ancients who named this mountain
Women who picked its berries
Children who gathered her nuts
Hunters who crept over her ridges
Before that wolves who ranged
Up to see the moon and howl
Chase prey over rocky paths
Claiming ‘their mountain’ too
Gathering life from hidden caches
Monadnock sits solidly over me
Holding my place here
Anchoring me to this green swath
Showing me rainbows of color
Across the four seasons
Watching from across the meadow
anchored by the mountains, not a bad place to be...i have climbed a few in my day....too cold right this second, but it so cool up there on top of the world...and as much as its we were here, here becomes a part of us....
ReplyDeleteI like this very much Susan. I often think of previous eras when I am in more or less wild areas. I am happy there are still some places that have escaped the cars and traffic. Now I will have to look up and see where this mountain is!
ReplyDeleteWhat a great poem, Susan! I love the smell of pines when it rains and I liked how you went back in time and thought of the people who named this mountain, 'your' mountain.
ReplyDeleteOh now I see it is in New Hampshire. Hope you are staying warm and dry. But then you are probably used to this kind of winter weather.
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely place to live you have brought to life for us with all the sights, sounds and smells, Susan.
ReplyDeleteSpiritual and moving. “Touchstone – I was here” struck a chord for me. Touchstone places, I have found, always hold the most beautiful memories.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poem celebrating your mountain. We are not so very far apart, and we lived in NH for a bit years ago. Now we're back to the coast of Maine. We all need an anchor, don't we?
ReplyDeleteBeautiful description of your area, Susan. Enjoyed the details that helped me picture it.
ReplyDeleteYou "drew" it all for us so well! A beautiful place it seems to be!
ReplyDeleteYour poem is incredibly lovely ... especially how you wove history into the description.
ReplyDeleteGreat place to be and live.............
ReplyDeleteBeautiful and wonderful, i would love to live on a mountain. Your words are full of life and love and a wonderful portrait of such a beautiful place.
ReplyDeleteI like how you took us back in time with the history of the mountain. A lovely view to look at daily!
ReplyDeleteSusan, a fantastic poem. I love the mountains, and you really took me the there--the silk rivulets, the scents and the transitions of "ownership" wonderful :-) Give the Mountain a hug from me.
ReplyDeletelove this idyllic setting you brought home to us ......
ReplyDeleteThe poem evokes your deep love for that mountain.
ReplyDeleteI love mountains (give me mountains rather than the seaside any day!) and your poem paints a wonderful picture of "your mountain"...
ReplyDeleteSo beautifully composed! A fitting tribute to what's uniquely yours every day!
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