WHO SPEAKS FOR OUR MOUNTAINS? WHO SINGS THEIR SONGS? POEM #4

This morning I decided to take an early morning walk down by the Cullowhee Community Garden, along the side road where my daughter and I used to stroll when she was a child.  There was a rusted swing set that we liked to visit, with a mountain meadow rising up behind it.  A few years ago we saw a fox,  all flaming elegance, running up toward tree line.  "Running" comes nowhere close to how the fox flowed through the twilight, disappearing into the trees at the meadow's edge.  Yes, this morning the wire was fresh and the critters were skittering, mostly rabbits.   Two hefty black Labs came charging out of the tall wet grass to investigate me, a stranger on their turf.  They were wet and shiny from the heavy dew.  All sorts of birds were making a racket, the most vociferous being, of course, the crows.  The Queen Anne's Lace was in full bloom.   As I turned back toward home, someone had pulled into the Community Garden parking lot, ready to till her plot in the fresh morning air. 

Mountain air

By Skyler Sutton---Cullowhee Valley

Fresh air in the morning

Critters running

Tall trees

With small leaves

Slimy fish in cold water

Little birds

Blue green yellow

Plowing fields

In the

Mountains

Singing the Mountains on Summer Solstice

Beauty Surrounds Me

By Rebecca Pechman--Cullowhee Valley School

Wind

Whispers

Sings and calls

Creeks rush and race

Barred owls dance and hoot

Flowers burst and blossom

Stars sparkle, twinkle, and twirl

Crickets are chirping and calling

And the moonlight does a little jig,

Casting shadows on the mountains above me

The sun peeks out from behind the mountains

The first rays of sunlight hit the slopes

As if the sun is calling them,

Worms wiggle and bluebirds chirp

Salamanders scurry

Clouds drift to and fro

Butterflies dance

And beauty

Surrounds

Me

Who Speaks for Our Mountains? Who Sings Their Songs: Poem 2

To reach the summit at last, to lie down in the grass, in spite of icky bugs, and breathe in the sky itself, all that blue, all those clouds swimming overhead, the wind  wrapping you inside its blanket, yes, that's what "up the trail" means, what 3rd grader Blaine Steely wants us to see and feel in this poem.  

UP

Many trees to climb

On top of the world

Up so high you can touch the sky

Narrow paths you can fall off of

Tricky trails to walk up

Alone time by yourself

Icky bugs you step on

Nice and quiet place

Sunsets at night   sunrise in the morning

by: Blaine Steely, 3rd grade

      Smoky Mountain Elementary School
 Cherokee Language class

J

Who Speaks for Our Mountains? Who Sings Their Songs?

During April,  City Lights Bookstore in Sylva, NC and I sponsored a poetry contest for Jackson County school students to help them--and all of us--- join in our annual Greening up the Mountains celebration.  Over the next few weeks I will be sharing the poems by some of these students.  These are the voices we should be heeding as we meet the challenges--- environmental and cultural--- that confront us here in our mountains.

                                                                       

Maia Wilde, who attends Cullowhee Valley School, 

 weaves a tapestry of images that invites us to enter the natural world, the wild home where she lives.   I particularly like the rocks "like wise old men and women," their presence being the bedrock of these ancient mountains. That the smell of pine sap gives her courage gives me hope that our children will grow into adulthood looking to the natural world for the strength  to take care of the places they love.  

Wild Home

By Maia Wilde--Cullowhee Valley School

Sun rays like stars at night

Dew shining

Wild flowers blooming

Twittering birds say hello to me

Snow falling

Wind like a warm

Blanket

Mountains cast a shadow on the valley

Rocks like wise old men and women

The sun is like fire at night

The smell of sap and pine gives me courage

              

The mountains I live in are vast and tricky

    

Get lost

     

Good luck