||| FROM W. A. SCHMIDT (WASAKALOBO) |||
Driftwood
By wasakalobo
The morning fogs, thicker than shrouds
Wrapping intriguing shapes
Not unlike those encircling clouds
That cling to mountainscapes
Theirs is but an ephemeral state
Until the warming sun
Makes them all slowly dissipate
Their end has thus begun
As light floods the surrounding bay
Bleached shades of ev’ry kind
Pointing at us and far away
So bright they almost blind
Once sunshine has conquered the beach
The driftwood, drenched in light
Reminds us of the overreach
The woods’, the oceans’ plight
That human actions brought about
By dumping this debris
That wind and waves keep churning out
What once stood as a tree
With primal force back onto land
Ramshackle, scarred and soaked
Like skeletons piled up on sand
Whose story remains cloaked
Mysterious, inscrutable
Their past a blurry haze
Their future seems immutable
Spell-binding our gaze
And when the winter storms arrive
Adding more deadwood still
These heaps start moving, seem alive
Adding a fleeting thrill
Before they settle down anew
And stupor reigns the beach
These ups and downs they can’t eschew
Thanks to man’s overreach
Wrapping intriguing shapes
Not unlike those encircling clouds
That cling to mountainscapes
Theirs is but an ephemeral state
Until the warming sun
Makes them all slowly dissipate
Their end has thus begun
As light floods the surrounding bay
Bleached shades of ev’ry kind
Pointing at us and far away
So bright they almost blind
Once sunshine has conquered the beach
The driftwood, drenched in light
Reminds us of the overreach
The woods’, the oceans’ plight
That human actions brought about
By dumping this debris
That wind and waves keep churning out
What once stood as a tree
With primal force back onto land
Ramshackle, scarred and soaked
Like skeletons piled up on sand
Whose story remains cloaked
Mysterious, inscrutable
Their past a blurry haze
Their future seems immutable
Spell-binding our gaze
And when the winter storms arrive
Adding more deadwood still
These heaps start moving, seem alive
Adding a fleeting thrill
Before they settle down anew
And stupor reigns the beach
These ups and downs they can’t eschew
Thanks to man’s overreach
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Love how the accumulation of driftwood seems almost like its own entity, shifting through storms and seasons, in this poem by Wasakalobo and reminding us of “man’s overreach”! Bravo!