Blue Ridge Mountains, August 1975

The veery’s forked note spirals
through the thick breath of these pines
the mute stomata of the trees aspirate
green mouths beyond count

Life blooms and dies over and over
joy and sorrow are stories we tell ourselves
it occurs to me as I mount this trail
all that has brought me here
is the inexorable wanderings of the double helix
whatever it is
that brings order to this ceaseless banging of molecules
brings me to hear that ancient call
to assign it meaning

whether one leaves or stays
the feathered ones throw song to each other
the blue haze climbs like this with the sun
from these aging slopes
bearing nothing

I go with it

Copyright © 2020 Vasily Ingogly. All Rights Reserved.

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