Winter Looms
Jack Frost has brushed the mountains’ crests
And highland nymphs are shivering,
The blackened mauve below the snow
Has set my heart to quivering
To be among the old growth firs,
And tasting icy alpine air—
This flatland life’s no life for me,
I’d rather pass my days up there.
Robert Elkins lives on Fidalgo Island in Washington State’s Salish Sea. Retired from high tech and industrial electronics, and commercial aircraft interiors reconfiguration design as well as hunting and fly fishing the high Cascades. He has previously published two books of poetry.
This is a perfect little piece of description and a statement of opinion. “The blackened mauve below the snow” is a very artful construction of internal rhyme (“below” and “snow”), and the visual contrast of black and white. The poet’s decision not to repeat an ABAB rhyme scheme after the first one was a subtle touch — he avoids a singsong quality (important to sidestep in a short rhyming poem), and the slight dissociation lets the reader experience his freedom and unwillingness to be kept in “the flatland life.” This is definitely an outdoorsman’s poem. I’d like to see this guy’s gun collection.
Thank you, Joseph, I’m never sure anyone will catch my attention to rhyme schemes. I consider it one of the fun parts of writing a poem. You are right, I was an outdoorsman, that’s why I chose to live where I do. The conditions of old age keep me at sea level, and the guns are all sold off, but the memories are intact! BTW the poem was a real event in 1970 on Hart’s Pass, WA – the white was nearly 3″ of frost up top, an amazing day in raw wilderness.
If only the state of the world were as pristine as the Cascades and the Sierra Nevada Mountains. One of my favorite photos is from the Columbia River near Mt. Hood.
Yes, beautiful country, I’ve spent a lot of days in the elk meadows and forests just east of there.
A lovely, vivid tribute to a landscape and a climate that heaps nostalgia on me.
Thanks for the read, Robert.
You’re welcome – sorry you’re not still here.
I lived in the mountains for three years, but now I have to settle for a place where at least there are hills. I’m no flatlander, and I, too, have sent my guns away, but please don’t tell my enemies.
My sympathies, I can relate. We have one 1300-foot hill on the island and the drive to the top is frequently like Seattle rush hour LOL Promise I won’t if you’ll do likewise.
I promise, Bob, but it appears that we have both already gone public. I’ll never forget the night I spent alone in Bear Valley, which is just north of Bear Mountain, in the Blue Range near the Blue River in eastern Arizona. I was unarmed at the time, so you can bet I gathered enough dry wood to keep a fire going all night. Those were the days!