Pine Mountain

Poem + Prompt

Pine Mountain

Through the trees, a backdrop of drop,
lush plummet and then
mountains drawn in disappearing blue.

Through the trees, I silently walk,
kneel to mushrooms, curtsy to moss
until bear scat
sets me singing.

I am trying to sing away
the near bears.
Ursus americanus,
I want to see you
but not too close. 

Old songs spill out,
ones about a distant god
I no longer believe in,
a god without branches
or seasons 
or paws. 

Through the trees, light slips,
drips its paint ever lower,
blazes a trunk, a fern, my feet.

Light, life, ground 
continue their slow
covenant with gravity,
bit by bit unraveling. I want to unspool
so beautifully. 

I forget fear. Maybe 
I also forget song?
In the brush, a black rising.
Cub clambers swift for heaven.
Mama stakes the earthen trail. 

There are no trees
between us. 
There is nothing
between us
She steps my way. 

Beneath the trees, pine breeze
sharp with notes
of benediction. Beneath the trees,
an instinctive contract,
her two steps forward,
my six,
eight,
ten, 
tripping back. 

I am willing
to walk it all back. Loving everything
is a dangerous religion. 

God stares me down,

her paws wide.

We stay in suspended stance

until she is satisfied with my deference,

then a lumbering turn, a backwards gaze.
They take the trail that I too must go,
disappear around its green bend. 

I wait in silence.
I wait, wait, wait
until my legs like knowing deities
pull me forward.
They walk me
through the trees,
past mushrooms trod by bear paw, 
in raucous, reverent,
leaf-shaking,
soul-steadying song. 

This photo was a shaky-handed afterthought, after the bears and I had moved away from one another and just before they disappeared around the bend.

Ever since my close encounter with Mama and Cub, I’ve been trying to write a poem about the experience. I’m never satisfied with what I come up with, and this poem is no exception. I think it’s probably too meandering, tries to do too much, hasn’t yet decided who/what it is. But I needed to write it, and I figured I might as well share it. I’m trying to keep the bar low here, for my own sake, so that I’ll keep showing up, keep writing. But I’d like to lower the bar for all of us. When it comes to creativity, perfectionism harms more often than it helps.

I’ve missed you, dear readers! It’s been a lovely and full few weeks, though. I attended my first ever big writing event, the weeklong Appalachian Writers Workshop, which takes place in Hindman, KY. The energy of the people and place was so warm and kind and homey. (We ate tomato pie and fried pickles! We took turns washing the dishes together! I learned to play Skip to My Lou on a mountain dulcimer!) But we also got to learn from brilliant and big-hearted writers including Silas House, Wes Blake, and so many others. I think I might be ruined for all other writing workshops and conferences.

I’m sure I’ll share a few things down the line that I learned at the conference, and I’ll tell you how it’s impacted my approach to writing in this moment, but let’s keep this first post-vacay post short and sweet, shall we? On to our prompt!

The Prompt

If you’d like a prompt to play with today, then I invite you to scan back over your own experiences of wildlife encounters. A bear in the woods. A deer in the road. A snake in your garden. A cricket in your hair. It’s all fair game—no pun intended!

Has a bird ever looked down over the vast bend of the earth’s surface and among all the endless points and pixels, chosen you as its canvas?

Have you had any encounters with animals that have frightened you? Puzzled you? Made you feel suddenly, freshly alive?

Do you have a spirit animal? If so, how do you know? And what does that mean to you?

If you are one of those people who believes that animals can be messengers, showing up in particular moments of your life for particular reasons (I am totally one of those people), then pause to remember both your encounters with animals but also the messages that have come your way.

What animal would you most like to see in the wild? How would you want that encounter to play out? Let yourself daydream and imagine. Why should kids have all the fun?

Within all of these musings and remembering, notice where your own curiosity, interest, or energy pull you. Go with the pull. Press a pen to paper. See what happens. If you’d like to share, drop your poems or reflections in the comments thread. I would be so delighted to read whatever you come up with!

I’m wishing you each an encounter with your aliveness today—but a gentle one! A safe one! One that ends without claw marks!

Thanks for being here.