In the mountains
a bright and brilliant day.
In the valley
a lingering blue haze lay.
The mysterious valley covered by mist—
Of life, no sounds;
A house, a tilled field, a crooked line
A rural road leading to the mist-bound
Distant mountains nearly lost to view.
The young man in a rumpled
uniform and straw hat began
an introduction of himself.
A restless child distracts,
We begin our walk.
A short descent into the thicket.
There a look at some things displayed,
and deep into
The wooded trail, then
around a bushy
The Appalachia forest cool and dark
Revealed its secrets through the smart
“Up to the Franklin Cliffs,”
the park ranger and
naturalist prodded the
Stragglers as they started
Continuing on, the ranger instructed
the novice on trees,
the shrubs and life
In the forest through which we wandered.
Short of breath but exhilarated by a
place so beautiful and the mountain air,
Up we went, through the brush, around a tree,
And then, unannounced the hike was over;
at the top
of the trail,
The Franklin Cliffs.
Our vantage view did only stop
The little group from family tiffs,
And silly mouthing, for a second, and
Then, they all returned to normality
That made us no more than another
Of senseless urbanites
Trussed in our egos;
Traveling only to see the sights.
Whatever they may be.
But, when at home, they’d think back,
So much they talked and snapped;
So much to see, but saw it black.
The crowded mind of the ego balked
At the freedom of the mountain sky.
for a minute, I was allowed to look,
and saw the valley at my feet.
The only thought I had as I took
the last glance into the air
was, at last we meet.
O God, you are there!
Copyright © 2012 William Frank. Bellais
All rights reserved.
From, 180th Meridian and Other Poems and Reflections, Create Space, 2012