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