In oaks, in orbits
The Kami have returned to my meditation—
I see them beneath the cell phone tower
that rises above the Rachel Carson Trail.
They collect turkey feathers caught
in the barbed wire guarding
abandoned rail lines.
Deer cross above pipelines
that move dark blood
under deep red trillium.
The creek beds remember
steel and trout—
chestnut ghosts and coal seams.
The Araboshi also watch
from the valleys—neither spirit
or machine: something
with both faces.
My favorite forest
has a website and satellite cam.
I think of where
wildness still lives—
in oaks, in orbits
beneath my sternum.
Janette Schafer is a poet, photographer, playwright, and realtor living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She holds an MFA in Poetry from Chatham University. She is the author of three collections of poetry and the chief editor of two poetry anthologies. Her writing and photographs have appeared in numerous journals, newspapers, and websites, including Vox Populi, The Missouri Review, The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, and Eunoia Review. She is a winner of the Academy of American Poets Prize, the Pittsburgh Original Short Play Series, and the Pittsburgh Fringe Festival.
Amethyst Review 