Bristlecone Memories
Icy tundra vacant,
Elk herd now down valley,
Done with frightful lightning.
Powder parka, roots wrapped,
Fluids nearly frozen:
Good time to remember.
I remember my grandfather; those
Twisted bones still stand just over yon.
He was proud when I dropped my first cones;
Now my offspring have young of their own.
I remember that avalanche day,
When these leaning and dry gnarled limbs
Were but tiny green buds at my sides,
How it swept away living and dead.
I remember the Utes, who would hunt
In a band, and the miners who left
Lasting scars on the land. I recall
When an eagle once lit on my knee...
Chinook winds mix blowing
Snow with freshly falling.
Good time to remember
Seven hundred winters.
Light wanes, sleeping longer,
Reminiscing, dreaming.
First appeared in The Avocet: A Journal of Nature Poetry, Winter 2017
