For Maureen “Bunny” Crockett
Long trail towards Droop Mountain
Across Route 219
Too easy to miss
Until we see
a brown white sign.
Wild, wild weather eons
Of erosions.
They took and take their toll.
Imagine hibernating bears.
Imagine creatures lurking round.
Imagine this in full disguise.
Soil on top of monoliths
No one claims,
No one climbs on hands
and knees no more
A treasure on
Droop Mountain’s top
In honor of Ms. Polan’s son
A short stroll shown
By Dickinson’s daughter:
“Will you wait?”
While easy steps connect
The deep, round pits
In rocks,
Mosses,
Varicolored linches
Find ice cream ice
and celebrate your nation’s birth
Near cold and frozen bolders.
Ambling on the boardwalk,
Cool rocks,
Manhattan canyons,
Handrails levelled to the snow.
Erosions took and take
their toll.
The monoliths will rubble down.
And yet –
for now,
we have this tiny place.
Beartown changes everyday,
Rolled round in earth’s diurnal course.
And I belong, like these rocks do.
I hibernate.
Sillion 