when the float plane’s buzz fades
deep silence settles
you can’t know what’s to come:
rain-beaded rye
sweeping circles in sand,
sweet blue-grey-berries
staining your palm,
the feel of wolf fur
caribou antler
wolverine bone,
and pastel sheen of
birch bark scrolls
you haven’t met the devoted swans
tender loons
dancing cranes,
been rattled by their calls,
or listened in the burn
while charred trees whisper
about the pleasure of flame
the deep moose tracks
studded by wind-blown cones
aren’t marred by your gait yet,
and the thick moss underfoot
hasn’t cradled your bones
through the pale dark
that’s all ahead
after this hushed pause
Erin Robertson was raised by Walnut Creek, Lake Erie, Morse Mountain, and South Jersey’s salt marshes. She teaches outdoor nature writing classes for children in Louisville, Colorado (www.wildwriters.org), and has been honored with residencies through the Voices of the Wilderness and Boulder County Open Space Artist-in-Residence programs. Find her poetry in the North American Review, Poet Lore, SageGreenJournal.org, and elsewhere. www.erinrobertson.org, www.robertsonrambles.com
Featured image by Jason Ahrns "Koyukuk River” CC BY 2.0
