“I’ve been to Maine often in the past several years, and it seems each time, although I’m inevitably drawn back to the North Woods, I find something new and wonderful each trip…this trip was no different.” Poem by NRCM member Ernest Wright of Richmond, Virginia. Read Ernest’s blog post about his trip to the proposed National Park lands.
A Majestic Wood
I close my eyes and imagine to hear
Those gentle words so soft and clear
In their prose inspire and visions stirred
They bring me back to a majestic wood.
Speaking of her wondrous place
While high on a hill her visions soar
Around and back once more
Millay not only sets her scene
But brings mine to view when I need
Now in this space I stand
behind elder son on a hill as grand,
he scans the horizon, tracing her line
I close my eyes, thanking all I can
for time to spend with this special man
Longing to hear the paddle’s soft allure
once more, dropping in, sound and sure
Father’s joy, his wonder, and its rhythmic drip
Our strokes together push us slowly beyond
Treasures eternal with my younger son
Hebron waters black and still that night
stars above shine and pulse so bright
We lie weary from the day’s long trail
Gazing upward in awe at a humbling sight
The Perseid tails of shooting star-light
This place is so dear, to me, to others
Literary giants, fathers, sons, daughters, mothers
Creation, nature, and clean air amaze
Those who stop, breathe, and cast their gaze
to these hills, streams, lakes, and meadows
Bound you will be, like so many before us
Centuries have seen these trees green
The rocks trod, the waters gleam
As our fathers past, our future should share
This place, with those, for whom they care
So their children can amaze to see
Our land so pure as they can dream
When my own thoughts wonder alone
I rest assured though she is gone
Verdant dreams to share with my mother
These woods she’d love, its clear flowing water
Here, she is near me, like no other
During preachers’ sermons I sometimes go
To this place Thoreau made known
its amazing gift of simple creation
where mountains lay as if God had thrown
Who are we to doubt his word
To revere and nurture this delicate world
What is this majestic wood I dream
So vivid in my mind the scene
As renascent words drift softly by
My eyes open to see, the North Woods of Maine
Lying grand and wondrous before me
Once more I close my eyes and imagine to hear
Those gentle words so soft and clear
In their prose inspire and visions stirred
They bring me back to this majestic wood.
