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OLD SLASH
Move slowly in old slash, old man
And let the mist flow thru you like a song
The shattered logs now strewn like bones of dinosaurs
Who fell in some lost battle long ago
When first they let the sunlight in
Now covered by salal and salmonberry
Tentatively reaching toward the sun
To gather back the darkness
Clasping shade to moss and duff
To deer fern, sword fern, mouldy wood
He walks and scrambles, musing
Scratching hieroglyphics on a card
Tshe off-site here - too wet
Gash Rupa Rusp - some Thpl, Abam regen tho
What will he do here then
If not enough young trees
Grow up to suit his plans?
Tear up old slash with dozer blades
Or brown its foliage with chemicals
To burn and plant again
Or leave the seedlings to work out their destiny
With twin flower, thimbleberry
Ferns called sword and maidenhair
Why is the forester himself out here
In his ancient drive-in caulks and tin hat?
What brings him from his numbers, plans and budgets
And beckons over blasted rock
Singing - between snag and sapling
Drawing, leading back
To the secret - to the source of all beginnings
Out here buried in the brush
And hidden somewhere in old slash?
A call beyond all seasons, years and acres
Thru sun and fog and memories of green
Across the throats of time and down
A rainy saltwind, thru moss-bearded gullies
Mainlines, logged-off valleys, up the seaview sidehills
Damp and waiting among washed-out roads
Look up then to the setting
Logged and left at the valley's end
The landing where the chaser
Left his carving when the last lone whistle blew
Of a slab of yellow cedar as the turns rolled in
The lines hummed, the whistle punctuating in the mist
Slowly she took form - and when the yarder left
He leaned her there against the cut bank
Where checked and weathered by the seasons she remains
Her flowing lines of form and long straight hair
Her face both strong and delicate, serene
Her mouth with ever hint of sadness, her eyes
Patient, loving, all-knowing, all-forgiving
Above, within the greening of the valley
Our Lady of the Everlasting Rain
Bill Perry is a British Columbia west coast writer originally from Connecticut who has spent
his life in the outdoors as a ski jumper, ski instructor, mountaineer and forestry specialist.
Currently he shares his time in Ucluelet, Mount Washington and Vancouver. He is the owner and
operator of Green Wave Adventures that specializes in guided hikes and seaside scrambles along
the Wild Pacific Trail.
Green Wave Adventures
Email: Bill Perry
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