Mimicry

This is a poem about the time I went sledding recently, near my family’s home in the San Bernardino National Forest. I’ve been on the trails numerous times before but have only sled there once. Typically there isn’t enough snow to do any winter activities when I visit – besides skiing. The first time I went sledding on the National Forest trails is one of my favorite memories. My partner, my partner’s siblings, my brother, and my brother’s partner were all there. It is a memory of joy and innocence that brought out the child in me. When we went out recently, my mind was stuck on that memory. For several minutes, I had a tough time bringing myself back to the moment and enjoying the present circumstances. Then I looked at a grove of oak trees, and they provided me with some insight – as trees so often do if you give them but a moment.

Mimicry

On a somewhat unknown voyage
in the mountains with the dried up old pines
smaller and weaker looking oaks
are filling in the barren spaces
They are still holding onto their leaves
from the previous season

Perhaps, they think, mimicry
of the stoic and communal needles
will help get as much life
out of this past summer as possible
But the desert peak’s
mid-winter breeze
frees a golden hued
round lobed leaf
that’s come to rest by my feet

I look and there is snow on the ground

How rare, this canvas
compressed and compacted
with each shifted motion
The trails, clearly mapped
but the sides left untouched
Turning to the right
down the gently grazed fall line
there is some open space
to sled.

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