Kingdom Come
Red-tailed hawks soar magical as Chinese kites. Scrubby trees mature.
He calls it second growth. We step careful not to crush winterberries
And it smells like gum. And he says, “Don’t you hear it?” We are almost
to the spring and I have my eye out for fossils. “Hear what?” The
constant woodpecker or his foot cracking sticks as we climb? I find a giant
wasps’ nest and some Dogtooth Violets. Two copperheads glisten
sunning on a flat rock. I can’t hear what he hears, the ventilation
fans from underground mining. There is a world beneath our feet
where they scurry like moles. There must be rumblings like subways
in New York City. We teeter along Little Shepherd Trail in a place
called Kingdom Come passing a giant spider web. I hope to find
some ginseng but have no idea what I am looking for.
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Edwin
Janet