Forever walk - in Jericho Vermont
By Bernie Paquette
I took a
walk in Jericho,
Vermont
My legs carried me
but my ears kept me in place.
Step one, step two
three,
and four
should have been enough
except that I could hear!
I could hear
only the crunching
the crunching under my feet
as my heel and sole
made contact with earth -
Not smooth, nor asphalt hard
nor uniform in grade,
texture, or color
only the sound
escaping my trespass.
No line to stay in between
only a suggested path -
An occasional pop and a squish
liquid oozes into the depression of my step.
Of what I crunched, I know not
the weight of my world
too much
for that of another.
Another step, and yet another
always that crunching
over pebbles, soil, and natural debris
like chewing on popcorn
one cannot stop until the bowl is empty
for the crunching rules over all else.
Such are the only sounds I hear now
step after step after step.
Sometimes I try to walk as I Imagine Native Americans perhaps did
with moccasins or bare feet
silently moving with the breeze beside deer and birds and bear
not adding or taking away from their chorus.
I lose my thoughts,
lose all other sounds
to the crunching under my heavy step
the soul of my feet releasing a heavy burden
to the depression of earth
she absorbs me with heart and without discrimination
only crunching, an occasion squish or pop, then
under my step
A branch snaps with a sharp cry.
I quickly pull up my step.
Too late.
I have stepped on -
broken -
the spine
of a mountain.
Vermont
My legs carried me
but my ears kept me in place.
Step one, step two
three,
and four
should have been enough
except that I could hear!
I could hear
only the crunching
the crunching under my feet
as my heel and sole
made contact with earth -
Not smooth, nor asphalt hard
nor uniform in grade,
texture, or color
only the sound
escaping my trespass.
No line to stay in between
only a suggested path -
An occasional pop and a squish
liquid oozes into the depression of my step.
Of what I crunched, I know not
the weight of my world
too much
for that of another.
Another step, and yet another
always that crunching
over pebbles, soil, and natural debris
like chewing on popcorn
one cannot stop until the bowl is empty
for the crunching rules over all else.
Such are the only sounds I hear now
step after step after step.
Sometimes I try to walk as I Imagine Native Americans perhaps did
with moccasins or bare feet
silently moving with the breeze beside deer and birds and bear
not adding or taking away from their chorus.
I lose my thoughts,
lose all other sounds
to the crunching under my heavy step
the soul of my feet releasing a heavy burden
to the depression of earth
she absorbs me with heart and without discrimination
only crunching, an occasion squish or pop, then
under my step
A branch snaps with a sharp cry.
I quickly pull up my step.
Too late.
I have stepped on -
broken -
the spine
of a mountain.
The deeper in this place
-this audio-less forest
I go
the more
the crunching dominates, drives, determines my stride.
I try stopping
holding both feet
still
the breeze bending tall
forward swaying grasses
impel my feet
from constraint to compel
they struggle to understand what to do
in this strange world where they are the dominant disruption.
It is TOO MUCH
TOO SOON
Unnerved, I quickly go back to walking
crunch, crunch, squish,
the quiet was disquieting
an alien place this
home to stealth birds, and deer and bear
I am unaccustomed to
as they are to my crunching.
Crunch, crunch,
softer now than on onset
smoother pace
gentler steps
singular
step
upon
step
between
blades
of
grass
now
blending in
bending
twigs.
twigs.
walking
on
air.
I took a walk
on a garden path
into woodlands
and lost myself.
I took a walk in Vermont
and got lost
in miles of crunching steps
when a few
should have been enough.
on a garden path
into woodlands
and lost myself.
I took a walk in Vermont
and got lost
in miles of crunching steps
when a few
should have been enough.
No comments:
Post a Comment