Set aside

books and camera.

Enter pine and

maple woods where

meadow eases into

autumn’s fire-leaf

and birdwing canopy.

There is wildness

in the robin, a

divinity where

no one stands to

taste wild apple or

to hear the distant

chainsaw’s growl.

Each entry beckons

under changing sky.

Set aside books

and camera. Know

how thorns progress

to pine, how

words and photographs

revert to sources

like the leaves to

an upland’s healing.

About rivertoprambles

Welcome to Rivertop Rambles. This is my blog about the headwaters country-far afield or close to home. I've been a fly-fisher, birder, and naturalist for most of my adult life. I've also written poetry and natural history books for thirty years. In Rambles I will mostly reflect on the backcountry of my Allegheny foothills in the northern tier of Pennsylvania and the southern tier of New York State. Sometimes I'll write about the wilderness in distant states, or of the wild places in the human soul. Other times I'll just reflect on the domestic life outdoors. In any case, I hope you enjoy. Let's ramble!
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2 Responses to Invitation

  1. sonofwalt says:

    Look at you, getting all poetic. And look at the colors up north! Hey, I love that conclusion. Too many people see falling leaves as the sign of oncoming death and winter. I like the idea of upland healing. It’s a cycle after all. Thanks for this!

    • It all came on suddenly, as if a truth would be told, the leaves tossing themselves off, and with hundreds of migrating robins voicing it nervously, move on, it’s all OK. There’s healing in the process. Thank you dad poet!


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