Along the upper stream, in the summer mountains, the witches watch.

Back in the city, they call them old growth.

Each one has their own assortment of spells.

Once you learn that fact, you realize why the forest looks as it does

And if you dance upon a carpeted trail, it may sound hollow beneath your feet.

You must know that it’s not an emptiness.


The witches invented graveyards.

For old wisdom knows that bones carry power, giving life to whoever lives within them.

And when you see a dead witch, you will not wonder why it’s still alive.

The bones resonate, hum a deafening song, cast deep spells.

Along the upper stream, in the summer mountains

Life gives death a living name.





22 Comments on “Witches

  1. That’s a cedar. Before it died, it was most likely 600 to 1000 years old. On that part of the Clackamas River, there are a few of them. Most are still alive.


  2. Invokes thoughts of my visits in the woods. Such a great picture I am curious if you saw the tree and the poem came to your heart or it was a combination of the odd shapes and sizes of these magnificent trees and your walk among them that brought your imagination to life for the community? I can tell you love the forest through your work and love and appreciate the peace and beauty of the northwest. Thank you. Love J

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I love this! Your poetry echos the story the tree in the picture tells.


  4. Elan, you really nailed this one. Bring it out three months from now and see what you make of it. Admire it or make it better. It’s worth the effort.


  5. Well, it does get spooky sometimes when you’re in the deep forest by yourself. Most people think I’m the witch when they pass me on the trail. Lol!

    Liked by 1 person

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