Something stirred in the thin underbrush
Like a ground swell
When rocks pause before being
discharged from the earth's bowel
Steadily, slowly, finding their way
Waiting for one seam, one ripe hour
Emerge where maple trees swing their heavy loads,
and whisper...
I could not have known it at the time
It started snowing the night I traveled along some
endless highway road
Lost, but not alone
One passenger stood sound asleep
resting from her turn of driving
Lost
So, I had no time to enjoy this immaculate scene
unfolding around me
The land all dressed in whites and grays
And midnight blues and starry bells
The sky above, a single dancing snowflake
89 had turned into 90
North into West
Lost in New York State, somewhere
Vermont to my East
Or perhaps it was just a hunch,
or wintry solitude having its way with me
Silhouettes of A-framed houses
buried in the dark off the highway some
I barreled down this downtrodden path
Enveloped by black mountain walls
And golden street lights
Yet, something was missing
from this picture
Home is what we make it
I thought to myself
One sign, that’s all I needed, longed for
To guide me home
So far from home
No sign
Only meek sounds from a tireless gray road
and tires clawing for earth
It was time to let go of my aphrodisiac of
hope
Dock at the gas station ahead
equipped with sleeping attendant, seated
Who wore a puffy gray beard, soiled top,
with hidden eyes buried under the beak
of a weathered Exxon cap
(His tousled hair stuck out,
which desperately needed cutting)
The unease of having to disturb
a man from his work
“How this night done me in,” he said,
rousing himself
“How I’ve lost my way this night,” I quipped,
"so we must be comrades"
He gathered his wits, even procured a map,
and I watched his fat fingers slide
precisely along each end of the paper edge
somewhere between which stood my
destination,
Or so it said
We laughed some about my heading
in the opposite direction
We exchanged kind gestures
and parted forever
I did, finally, see the sign,
(It wouldn't be the last)
Thanks to that fine fellow
The sign was green with bold white letters,
accentuated by the wilding snowfall
“Welcome to Vermont”
No doubt the white shroud had thickened
An earthly momentum of a wondrous scale
planting its jewels
everywhere and anywhere
and I relished the reckless abandon in it all
My car meandered along
guided by headlights, starry sky,
a pitched moon and freshly lain tracks
of some weary traveller before
Up ahead, in the clearing,
two deer stood,
Pan of the American woods
Whose silouette moves
like a shooting star dancing
across the night
They moved not a hair
I rolled down my car window and approached slowly
Closer to one than I had ever been
There they stood, deafeningly calm, just gazing
Unlike Jersey deer
(Those damned hunters!)
The cold winter air brushed my face
I inhaled the smell of the fresh fallen snow
and listened to the pitter patter
against my exposed jacket sleeve
“That’s some deer,” a voice croaked beside me
But I only hear this voice retrospectively
I was concerned, you see
These deer started to retreating
back peddling first, then about face
toward the woods they went,
abandoning this late night crossing
Before I sighed,
they stopped in their tracks
Hoof marks in the snow, looking
as if they were always there
when it snowed
One doe threw her head back
Playfully, like a young girl with wet hair
I reached out and waved her back
To this day, I don't know why
Magically, they etched forward
Shiny car lamps in the distance
Forever scattered my snowy vision
But I know now that I was born on that nightly road,
between the woods and massive flakes - still
the heaviest recorded snowfall to date -
and since dreamed about those deer
which crossed over, after all
As I had done
on that cold Vermont road,
one delicious winters night
.
