On a day when winds are raw, rains insist

on their priority,

and fog is playing stingy

with the view

don’t climb Diamond Hill in some

stubborn display of endurance.

No panorama rewards your foolishness.

Go instead to the trail

entitled, “Nature”.

Be a humble guest in the home

of great Beech, Ash, and Alder broadleaves

who baptize you

with holy-water from

ancient limbs.

Let your boots meander

reverently past tiny patches of yellow-green

wolf’s milk, lone butterwort,

lemon primroses, and

hillsides of shiny, wild garlic.

Quiet your mind and

listen to skylarks and song thrushes –

descants amid falling-water melodies.

Sink into the mossy, feminine landscape

and feel her reassurances:

The day will come when

bright skies invite an ascent

to the sweeping views

of Connemara’s bens and bogs.

Until then,

drink in the embrace

of her lush woods.

 

~     ©2015 Jennifer Comeau