1981
WILD RASPBERRIES, 1981
Nothing so fragile as wild raspberries. The globules separate at merest touch, fall into the hand in sun in a patch on the largest gem in the world Jasper Knob in Ishpeming near the Cambrian Shield spread in long grass, white pines, white birches. She says that’s why I like it here so well. You just go out to run the dog, get waylaid by raspberries. Every trip ends up with treasure. © Jane Piirto. All Rights Reserved.
1981 BLUEBERRIES, 1981 We crouch, then sit, so profuse the tiny berries two-handed we pick pluck soft fingered in this patch on moss that one under cedar. Farther off the path by rock with lichens We wander and don’t speak Much, but we hear chickadees and the wind soft and August. Blue smudged by fingers plops into the pail then falls soundless and it fills. © Jane Piirto. All Rights Reserved.
1982
CROSSCOUNTRY, 1982
“Make me a left ski to push / a right ski to scoot” Runo 13*
Dry brown maple and oak leaves rattle still on branches the creak of saplings and silence. Our skis rasp when we fling on this crusted snow whir as we bend to hills today the sky is colorado The light ends on gray rocks. Mountain ash berries on their branches look like Christmas decorations through bare trees near dark green cedar swamps. Squirrels that glance across the track cross trail with snowshoe rabbits passing by the hats of acorns on the path. On a sunny day we go in sweater arms bare-headed and the snow tinsels grainy with slices of ice. We should have used red wax. We go fast, we crabwalk up the hills. The shadows of twigs crisscross, a black and white oriental rug beneath us, and there is no rejection here. The ground receives the snow in lumps— shadows of the sides of the grooves look like mountain ridges from a plain, soft and sculpted mounds— a casual overlay. The grass insists near rocks and trees. Young boys we pass gleam sweat on lips and brows, but we are fit. We keep our sweaters on and tramp beyond them. We knew this place before they made it public. We stop to talk about our lives away from here. We lean on poles, face sun on slope Susan, it is good to be as we are friends since we were three, in love with movement on skis on snow in woods. We are this place’s children. This healing is enough. © Jane Piirto. All Rights Reserved.