Song of the
Old Mountain Man
by Gary Spina
(Copyright 1990 by Gary Spina)
When I was a boy the earth was new,
White clouds sailed on forever,
Galleons on eternal blue,
Majestic and familiar.
Storms were godly, wild and free,
The rolling, endless, salty sea,
High mountains, pathless woods and me.
Purple twilight, do you hear the loon?
See my trusty friend, the moon?
The brooding night sky, black and cold
So wondrous, full of stars so old.
C’mon, my darling, hold me tight,
The wind blows cold this starry night...
But now I seek a quiet place,
Wooded, deep, serene,
To lie upon the good, dark dirt,
To sleep, to die unseen.
With the grass against my heartbeat,
The Earth gods call me home,
With the dappled sunlight o’er me,
Through cathedral treetops’ dome.
The wind will blow across me,
And I’ll hear its muffled prayer,
I will smell the scented, fallen leaves,
And breathe the cool sweet air.
Then I’ll float on boyhood reveries,
One long last breath with happy ease
Inhale the song birds’ melodies,
The song birds’ ancient melodies,
And sleep a dreamless sleep...
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La Joie de Vivre
by Gary Spina
(Copyright 1990 by Gary Spina)
La joie de vivre;
it’s the choices I make;
the bitter-sweet wonderful choices I make;
so that I may be happy when I grow old,
for the things that I’ve seen
for the things that I’ve done
for the people I’ve known
and the things I’ve become;
so that I may be fearless
when I’m forgotten,
fearless and happy
when I’m alone.
La joie de vivre;
La paix de mort.
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The Passing of the Mountain Man
by Gary Spina
(Copyright 1990 by Gary Spina)
What of me is left in my old camps?
After my spirit passes beyond
what of me will linger for you,
and what of me with you?
Where I’ve broken camp
I’ve left the wilderness unspoiled.
Yet, when you walk the high forests
you will know
that here, long ago, I built my fire
and here I lay to sleep
weary in my old blankets.
Walk the pathless wilderness
and when the wind blows
breathe me deep into your chest.
Drink me in the running streams
that surge up to the surface
that carry with them secrets from below
and carry me along their speckled currents
that through dark forest secret-laden flow
then rumble down the mountain cold and pure.
Walk the endless wilderness in peace
and look for me.
Greet me in the green moss cool and shaded,
in rocks that speak in silent truth,
in songbirds singing morning,
in nightbirds hooting sadness,
in loon and wolf and moose,
in bear and lynx and hare.
Listen.
Listen to the thunder roll,
the patter of the rain.
I come on sweeps of winter snow
the whistling grass that storm winds blow,
the mourning dove’s refrain.
I come to you on silent wings
to hail a kindred spirit
to encircle you in light
to envelop you in beauty
to protect you in your travels
watching over you as you sleep.
Journey to the far places
to the campsites
where I curled upon the bosom of the Earth,
where I dreamed my lonely dreams
alone
under the moon and billion stars.
There you will find my spirit
beneath your boots
in the pine needles where I slept.
Linger with me as I linger with you.
Listen to my whispers on the wind
And smell the wood smoke of my campfire
though it be a hundred years cold.
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