Photo credit: Amanda Sparkman
How to Get There
Just below the cascade, a sycamore
across the plunge pool,
resting an even six inches above the foam.
It is still rooted, scree from the cliff
having filled in the gap behind,
and fresh shoots wave their flags
of winter leaves along its length.
To cross the log you must weave
through a young forest, the vegetable
equivalent of shops and houses
piled thick upon London Bridge.
Here there is stubborn life for sale,
new and eternal homes,
hands of mottled green and brown
to reach you to the other side.
—from Visiting Home (Pecan Grove Press, 2008)