Quiet Inspiration

— Nick Butterfield

If John Muir
Was on this porch

Would he find some grace,
A river flowing upward?

Tears from the smoke of a campfire with friends
Will last for sometime.

In the Tundra, the memory of gravity
Is soon erased.

Glaciers become icebergs
Were once a flake of snow, that touched the sky.

The Snow Shoe Hare is hungry
And the Willow branches it nibbles,
Later die and gray.

Love speaks not of a path
Worn by want.

Nor of fear of being bitten by any
Beast below.

There is a price for courage
Less the Willows grow tall.

Though a bear will look both ways
When crossing..

A line that was never broken.

One thought on “Quiet Inspiration

  1. What a lovely surprise when the poem breaks away from the natural world into the world of abstracts: "Love speaks not of a path/ Worn by want." What a shock that elevates the poem!

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