From the mountain pass where
pioneers ate human flesh
To survive a winter storm,
It does not seem far enough
Today, by four-lane,
To the sea.
Under thinly clustered
Redwoods, (blood-brothers, perhaps,
To the silver Mallorn trees
Ravaged with Lothlorian)
A black and white sign reads,
'Do not pick up cones.'
In snow fed streams made sweet
By mountain minerals and
Lichen softened waterfalls,
Divers breathing compressed air
Search the deeper pools
For nuggets.
Like ducks imprinted on
the sun, men seek substitutes
At night, unmindful of waves
Sweeping civilization's
Refuse from miles of shore
In rhythmic moon praise.
Keen observations beautifully expressed. Thank you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Like ducks imprinted on the sun...............................from an animal behavior class? i like some of this. you may also have seen signs which said don't pick up hitchhikers. oh, wait, THOSE signs were in new york state. here in sunny (sometimes) northern california, among the redwoods, anything (almost) goes. bri :)