A Year of Poems – Day 286

The path arches through the evergreens
Dirt red with decomposing cedar branches
The air is heavy with a light fragrance
Most of the world would say is Christmas
but I know as the smell of summer, spring, and winter
Beauty never dies in the Northwest
It fades but the smell lingers in the earth
Blowing green in the whitest winters
Like the seeds which lurk in volcanic ash
Waiting to bring fires of blue and green
Unseen to the rolling blue green forests
In this wet land ringed by mountains of fire
For the path is pleasant, green, and still
As the fire burns beneath the earth and in us all
I walk in a land shaped like myself
Yet filled with birds, wild cats, and slugs
No path has poetry quite like mine.


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