Mountaintop Poetry Poem by Kim Barney

It was written in the trees
and I saw it the first time
when the sun was coming up
and there was a gentle breeze.

The morning of my first hunt
for deer; I was sixteen.

Near the top of Poison Hollow
some deer tracks had been seen.
I started out to follow them
not knowing where they led.

I thought that I might find a deer
but found a poem instead.

Quaking Aspens make a fine canvas;
white and smooth is the bark.
A thin cut hardly shows at first
but over time turns dark.

Barely visible when first made
if done correctly; just keep
low pressure with a thin blade
and not more than a fourth-inch deep.

Years later your words appear in black
upon the white tree trunk
and I found the poem there
in that little grove of 'quakies'.

A beautiful poem it was,
three verses written on three trees
standing side by side.

The author even signed his name
and the year:
eighteen eighty-nine!

How I wish I had taken
a camera with me that time!

In my twilight years
I no longer recall his name
nor the contents of the poem
except that the meter
and the rhyme were perfect
and I felt uplifted
after reading it.

I'd love to find it, but don't see how,
those trees would be long gone by now;
they were already old at the time.

Now in the mountains, when I hike,
I carry a magazine,
water bottle, notebook, pen
and several other things.

If you see Mr. H. G. Wells,
please tell him I would like
to borrow his time machine!