Gene Smith
Stats
Pastime trenz pruca
Hometown seattle, washington
job photographer
interests landscape, portrait, travel
Poem Titles
> EVOLUTION
> IN JAPAN
> HAPPY BACK PACKER
EVOLUTION
High on a peak where the air is thin,
Where lichen spreads and spiders spin,
A mist may put a droplet there
And leave it lie for earth to care.
But it will have a task to do,
For nature's plan is sure and true.
For EVERYTHING that EVER WAS
Is BOUND to serve, effect and cause.
And even though it's just a dit,
Some other moves because of it.
And EVEN if it's never viewed,
It HAS its time, it IS imbued
With some minute yet finite force
That CHANGES something in its course.
A grain of sand can help a shore.
A blade of grass, a field and more.
A tiny cell can change to two
And four and eight and it can do
A JILLION things when it knows how;
Create a tree, a whale, a cow:
Or stay quite small, no size at all;
Nor have a name for us to call.
Just stay real small and never be
Of any consequence to me ...
________________________________
IN JAPAN
Along a winding winter's rise
From rural lonely earthern lane,
By chance regard did my two eyes
Delightful pleasure well obtain.
For there beneath grey sunless sky
Arrayed all mixed unmeasured round,
December colors so did lie,
And deeply charm that country ground.
In swaths of grey and browned and greened,
Were spread by some grand master's hand
'neath casual hill high lines which seemed
To wave and swale across that land.
A few bare sleeping trees well placed,
Last summer's clothes gone flown about.
Their thin dark bare reached fingers laced
Until next coming spring may out.
As if to more adorn that scene,
Did textured patterned patches play.
And there, dark pathways intervene,
But strange, no figures walked that day.
Yet now my eyes again did smile.
For there beheld neath reeded lip.
Three cottage clustered all the while.
On site just right as artists did.
From these arose thin grey mist streams,
Which told of those inside who'd dwell.
Since that cold day in life and dreams,
I see that scene I'd loved so well.
________________________________
HAPPY BACK PACKER
With the heft of my pack and my boots in the dirt,
And some shade from my cap on the face,
I can smell pure air and gaze up the trail,
That leads to a higher up place.
There's a sign on a post at this trail fork spot
and there's hiker skuffed dust on the ground,
And tall fir hosts stand along these trails,
As I tread on the one that I've found.
Catch that jay on a twig? See that lizard zip across?
Why there's pine cones kicking my feet!
See a blue, blue sky 'round that sun well high,
Shining down on this backwoods treat!
I have trekked here before in the clean crisp air,
And my good red pack I have wore.
Now rock banked streams and lupine brushed slopes
Please my ears and my eyes once more.
For the trees and the rocks and the sage brush smell,
With the sun dappled wild flower stands,
Blend an Eden place for my well warmed soul,
In these pristine high up lands.
Oh, this air smells pure and these streams run clear,
And my pack sits fine today,
And my legs are strong and my God seems near,
'Cause he's come along and blessed this day!