Elan Mudrow
Smidgens
Opal Pool
The roads are so young
Where old mines have been forgotten.
They stumble through the forest
Uneven, full of ruts, washouts.
Men have come with tools
Left them, returned with better.
Implements that shine silver
Rust resistant, until rains never stop.
The goal is to cut clean, to sprinkle
Shaped earth, decorating the contours
Of river, pools, and growth.
We, the ones, who yell along trails
Echoing off ancient volcanic movements
Slip five dollars
Inside an envelope–
license plate number–
Scrawled in human–
Bleached white envelopes–
Connect with the eerie reflection
Of how we carve, paint, sing, make roads–
And yes, the art of the outhouse.
The parking lot must be made bigger
17 Comments on “Opal Pool”
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Elan Mudrow 
Awesome piece and you are correct…the more modernized we become, the less evolved we become!
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Reblogged this on TJ Writes, Etc. and commented:
… time passes … sigh
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Poetry: the supreme art of the heart.
You have a wonderful blog.
Thank you for visiting nothingcluelesslost.com
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Reblogged this on Still Another Photoblog.
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Reblogged this on Orthometry.
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Wonderful mix of past and future. I like your ending with your observation about the parking lot.
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Wonderful poem man. Thank you for sharing.
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this poem connects me to the camping i have done over many years, how getting out on an old road or on a trail provides a narrative of people and our interaction with the land. i hadn’t thought of those experiences in quite that way until i read your poem. so thank you for that and for your first sentence, which hooked me.
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Reblogged this on wwwpalfitness.
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So true!
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Sad….
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Fabulous!
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Beautiful
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Yes that’s a beautiful story but I hope no Narcissus comes again.
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Beautiful
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Cephissus + Liriope = ?
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Sounds like God’s planning it for us.
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