Saturday, April 24, 2010

The Backwoods

Stay out of the woods.
There the spring is soft
as fiddleheads reach
upward. Air ambles
in fog and pollen and
imprints left around
the roots of giant pines.
The backwoods, they’re
called; and they call
back, if you’re listening:
moans, grunts, or wails,
like something roams
between the trees and
leaves tufts of hair for us
to find and follow back,
further into the forest.
The stories go far back,
but unless you believe
in fiends, in ghosts, I
will leave the matter
alone.

9 comments:

L.L. Barkat said...

"spring is soft
as fiddleheads"

I love that part.

Did you know you can eat fiddleheads? :) You can.

Maureen said...

Came over from LL's tweet of your post. I, too, really like "soft as fiddleheads". I also like "'Air ambles" and the line "The stories go far back..."

The poem reminded me right away of Hanzel and Gretyl and deep dark woods.

n. davis rosback said...

ah, Sasquatch

i like call back
follow back
and go far back

ChristineBeth said...

i'm not afraid of Sasquatch; i just think we should all be on alert.

Marcus Goodyear said...

I like this:
The backwoods, they’re
called; and they call
back, if you’re listening:

And the tufts of hair.

Good one.

Claire said...

this takes me to a pine forest in south africa. where i lay down and just listened to all the sounds.

i was hoping for peace but instead i had this creepy feeling crawling up my back.

i think it's the groan in the bark ; )

Doug said...

I will have to ready that to my kids late night camping. Thanks for the Poem.

Jingle said...

breath taking,
wow...

keep rocking.

Shashi said...

Very interesting... I enjoyed reading this one, full of flow and imagery...

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