Rhododendrons Blooming in the Smokies

In Summer’s rumpled heat, the blue
scent of hemlocks slides upwards,
spreading comfort across the ridgetops.

Stooped shoulders the ridges, remainders
of pinnacles, scoured by centuries
then slowly cloaked in maple and oak.

Just below the ridgetops, an emerald
sea, sharp pines weaving winds
that unfurl through the hollers.

From the top of a ridge I can almost
touch them, reach down through wet air,
to green-bedded pink blossoms.

The fluttering hearts of a slow-rolling valley.

Poetry Life and Times 10–19–22