Let them be as tranquil, placid ponds.
Always still, calm,
quietly dignified
but never changing.
I’d rather be an ocean on a stormy day,
tumultuous and in flux, like the universe we live in.
Our world does not stop,
does not pause
to take a breath.
Why should I try to be any different?
To have been alone
with nothing else but the windy,
storm-grey sky,
rising and falling
as gusts blow back and forth.
To be respected, not as consistent or serene
or even wise but as dynamic, a thing of energy.
A blustery sea.
I’d rather be unconstrained and abrupt,
and if then puzzling
or even alienating
to those who encounter me,
then to be calm and agreeable, the placid pond
where tranquility is guaranteed,
but change and the power to act is not.
Swish swish swish.
The sounds of skis pierce the absolute silence of the forest
It is the crack of dawn, he is the only human on the mountain
Swish swish swish.
He is picking up speed, carving around the trees with haste
The animals watch him blaze by, the crisp morning air coming out of him
Swish swish swish.
The powder makes way for the titan coming through
His legs are tiring, his breath is hastening
Swish swish swish.
There was a storm last night, the leftover snow still falling, the wind howling
A tree is down, concealed by the vegetation of the mountain
Swish swish swish.
The man is approaching the fallen feat of nature, still unaware
He is finally enjoying himself, in complete harmony with his skis
Swish swish swish.
His final moments are going by, yet he is completely unaware
He ducks under a bush and sees it, but cannot stop himself in time
Swish swish-
A loud thud, then the trail runs red
The falling snow begins to cover him, no one will ever know
Let them be as volcanoes
always fiery and blazing
but turning land into coal.
I’d rather be a mountain
tucked in with the others like a single snowflake
falling down with so many.
To have broken away from the others,
to stand tall and proud.
To be blanketed in snow
or glisten in the sun.
I’d rather be cold and hidden, and if
then shivering instead of an uncontrollable madness
than to be a ball of flames
where lives are destroyed
by their own decisions.
I’d rather be serene
than angry and always seen.
If I could hide within myself under the sky
I’d rather be a mountain than the other kind.
Let them be as Deciduous trees
Always growing when it is easy
Never fighting to get out of winter’s cold and snow’s menacing grasp
I’d rather be a Evergreen
Proud and magnificent
like the stars my branches would strive to touch
To have the the power to weather whatever the weather
To have roots that reach deep within the earth
Down to the very center of it’s core
And can feel the great power right beneath me
I’d rather be an evergreen than a deciduous
I’d rather be an evergreen.
In the Granite State is
a small town special
to me although, maybe not
to you. Up Route 3 then over
to I-89, where Vermont and
New Hampshire meet, just
south of the snowy White Mountains.
Sweltering summer days at Storrs Pond,
autumnal apple picking at Riverview
Farm, skiing down the frosty cold snow
at the Dartmouth Skiway, hiking up
Mount Cardigan in the blooming spring,
where each year, we returned.
The bustling main street
filled with the familiar bakeries,
restaurants, and shops.
Where I used to spend
so much time, and now,
hardly any.