Ruth Stone




From the Porch

What is a wild tree
but the tops of the maples
when a storm
brawls up the mountain.
Or chokecherry smothering
the barn with its interlocking roots.
Or the entire mountain in September –
yellow and scarlet
and then turning brown
from the mountaintop,
slowly descending in front,
the dirt road
swirling past in a flutter of leaves.