SOLITUDE

	
			
my world is hushed at this hour of daybreak

autumn torches-- yellow, orange, crimson
guide the path through white-trunked birches
my feet squish prints in soggy brown grasses 
slide on moss covered stones

water hesitates by a beaver dam
with percussioned abandon 
hurls itself over rocks into spray curls

beaver guerillas glide through green-black waters,
push poplar boughs with paws,
at slap of tail disappear to camouflage themselves

my thoughts are pulsating black butterflies
I wish my troubles could disappear 
like wood chips in the rapids

Copyright ©2001 Glenda Walker-Hobbs

			

This poem originally appeared in Collective Consciousness, November-December, 2001. It also appears in City on the Rocks, Lighthouse Publishers(2002)