Produced by Maine Poetry Central and Dennis Camire
This week’s poem by Siiri Cressey beautifully personifies and describes a mountain through the seasons.
By Siiri Cressey
In summer she’s a young old woman;
her gnarled granite bones wrapped
in shreds of alkaline dirt,
embroidered with wide patches
of hardy green needles.
She humps over, looking for
blackberries on Mount Tom,
Little Molly in tow.
Come winter she hunches,
bending into the wind,
wrapping her cloak of whiteness
close around her
to shield herself from the cold;
her spindly dead-pine fingers
clutching the drifting folds
like grim death.
Her watery arteries thicken and freeze,
slowing her as she shuffles toward spring,
where she dies in a muddy slough
and is born again, triumphant,
in a burst of vibrant green.
Dennis Camire can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.