Arts + Scene » Poetry

Golden Monuments



No flagstones in the forest

            Too many downed trees

And melting snow

            To find the trail,

But somehow we find our way.


At the edge of a meadow

            That once was a lake

We make camp, drink,

            Listen to the deer fight,

Watch a bear watch us.


Morning, we day hike

            Through the rain,

Almost turn back,

            But make our way

To the stone dam.


In the 1890s Chinese men

            Placed each stone

So that down the line

            Other men could

Profit from this wall.


Breached by fallen trees

            The dam still speaks

A language I cannot understand,

            But I know come Monday

I must return to work.

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