O-Kun-de-Kun Falls
Familiar friend, this overgrown trail—
we picked its blueberries,
identified its ferns,
whistled to its vireos,
skirted its bear tracks.
Skipping over tree roots,
we sang silly songs in bad French,
and when we heard the falls, shouted,
hurried to feel thunder in our bones,
bask on sandstone flats,
mist cleansing our sweat.
This place, planted in our memories,
as the path marks its history:
maple leaf, once scarlet, now a bit of soil,
aster seed, awaiting rebirth,
scent of fox, long gone…
the soles of our boots.
Jane Richards is a piano teacher with an intense interest in writing and nature. She has a masters degree in creative writing from Columbia College, Chicago, and has published poetry and non-fiction works in Snowy Egret, Rosebud, The Plum Tree Tavern, The Weekly Avocet, and Bird Watchers Digest.
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