Bell Gap again
raindrops land with a random
industrial rhythm
on the metal roof of a trail shelter
wrapped in fog
a flash of white from a woodpecker’s wings
as i set out again
feeling parenthetical
under a black umbrella
at the two mile marker
a greenbriar vine’s final leaf
fog retreating up the mountain
doesn’t use the trail
the wet cliffs seem to glow
i page through shelves of blue shale
looking for fossils i find
hibernating lady beetles
and snow hiding below the rocks
protected by rhododendron leaves
that must’ve been stripped off
by high winds
in the place of white birches
i remember my former life
in a distant city
my own tongue gone strange
i walk through a river of cold air
flowing down the gorge
at the by-gone railroad’s
horseshoe bend up the mountain
entering the cloud
i pull on my poncho
to the accelerating pulse
of a ruffed grouse drumming
i’m agog at the beadwork
of rain on every twig
ridge lines begin to emerge
above the clouds
an erasure as selective as
a song dynasty landscape
hiding a highway
and half the sounds of traffic
four chickadees forage
in the trailside sumacs
a white birch appears
through a hole in the clouds
on the side of the next mountain
but i’m turning back
on the slope below me
stark naked branches
where a porcupine has been
exercising his teeth
feeling peckish myself
i pick up a bunch of wild grapes
that old taste of wine
left out too long