bits of bliss

By Adam Gibson ©

who finds the right paths to Protestor Falls?
beds of bracken, smart alec birds,
the slick rocks and sliding trails,
cold-pressed minutes in the shadow of big boulders
and the trees here which if they could talk,
would be talking trees...

who finds them?
the road far below,
our parked car.

the corduroy bush begins with black bark,
moves through green and
calls unanswered when called.

teenage dreams
teem into the action of the near stars
as night comes on.