The mountain alders
In luminescent jeweled green
Have limbs much thinner than their trunks;
It is their strategy
to grow fast and high
And spread new limbs each year
Against the sky
The darker firs
still wear the garb they wore all winter
Stoically, heroically surviving —
Their springing tips come later in the year.
All along the pass
The wind turns bright leaves over
Dancing spots of white against the green
And we are voyeurs here
Flying through on the interstate
Taking in a scene that ought to cost us
far more effort.
Still it invites us
to leave our hardened corridors
Forge into mystery
And find our green.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 27, 2013
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