Hiking the
Storm
On the cliff,
blackberry bushes tumble
Down the gash
cut by winter run-offWhile clouds fill the void below
Waiting to catch the falling fruits.
The cries of
swallows rise from the rock
Face, wings
beating against the airCurrents, the wind licks the edges
Of the crumbling limestone like
Needles in a smoke stack, tears
The vines off their moorings, dashes
Green berries against nervous mothers
Vainly pulling fledgling chicks
From beneath the rock ledges
As the storm
tears bits of oak leaves
grinds them with
rotten acornsAnd throws them at the base of the cliff.
I hike with my head down.
Emily Strauss
has an M.A. in English, but is self-taught in poetry. More than 80 of her poems
appear in public online and in anthologies. The natural world is her framework;
she focuses on the tension between nature and humanity, using concrete images to
illuminate the loss of meaning between them.
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