Always out of sight, close enough to tantalize,
where the trail widens a bit, sun breaks through,
a clearing just visible across a creek chattering over stones
and fallen spruce, tea brown water cheerily narrows
to a rush of rapids where conveniently a fallen poplar
and larger rocks provide a crossing to step dry-foot
to muddy ground at the base of a hill as it rises from
black spruce and willow, alders, to high swaying pine
that smells of mountains, the few gold leaves that shiver
you on, past drying raspberry leaves and mint, thicket
of viburnum, rough musk of fall's beauty.
Another curve, another stream, hills, roar of wind or water,
storms sudden or surprise hot sun to edge out clouds -
I walk this life, no end yet,
eager to keep going.
- Jaki Sawyer
Jaki Sawyer has always loved poetry. After living in northern Alberta until she was 39, Jaki moved to New Hampshire then retired to Kelowna, British Columbia. Jaki is published in several anthologies, Words for the Earth and has taken second and first place in Word on the Lake.
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