The Old Man of the Mountain

The Old Man of the Mountain

“You must see it,” Robert told Jen. “It’s breathtakingly beautiful sitting five thousand feet above sea level. The rock formation looks just like an old man in repose. That is why they call it Grandfather Mountain.”

The more he talked, the more excited she became. “And there is a mile-high swinging bridge stretching from the gift shop to the foot of the climb. It is made of metal and anchored with thick steel cables keeping it from swinging too much on windy days.”

As they drove along, Jen’s mind floated in and out trying to visualize what he was telling her. Winding their way up the narrow road, they arrived at the gift shop. The view was spectacular.

As they sat atop the “Old Man’s” head, Jen turned to Robert and said, “In space in time I sit, thousands of feet above the sea.”

Photos of Grandfather Mountain in North Carolina: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse, we are writing prosery, which is a flash fiction piece of 144 words that must include a given line from a poem in the story. Merril gave us this line:

“In space in time I sit thousands of feet above the sea.”

From May Sarton, “Meditation in Sunlight”

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The Climb II – segments 6 & 7

The clump of young pine trees was only fifty yards from them. Slowly they made their way through the thicket to where they had heard the sound a minute before. When they got to the pines everything was very still. The only sounds they heard were the birds overhead and the gurgling stream behind them.

George’s eyes scanned the area for a moment and then he put his finger to his lips and motioned to Jim pointing into the undergrowth. There lying in beneath a pine bow was a baby fawn. It was beautiful rust color with white spots on its back. The fawn’s long ears were perked up and its big eyes were watching George and Jim with a frightened look on its face, but it did not move.

After watching the fawn for a minute or two, George motioned to Jim to move back to the stream. Old Blue had wondered on up the mountain sniffing the stumps and rock. When they got back to the trail, George had a big smile on his face.

“I figured that might be what was making the noise,” he said. “When I saw the doe take off into the woods, I knew she was trying to get us to follow her. She was drawing us away so we would not find the fawn. She’ll make a wide circle and come right back for the fawn after we are gone.”

“It was amazing how it stayed so still, while we were watching,” said Jim.

That is their built in protective instinct,” George replied. They are too small to outrun a predator. By blending in and being very still they stay safe!”

The sun was rising higher above the trees as the two hikers followed the stream up the hollow. Up ahead they could hear Old Blue barking as he enjoyed this time in the woods.

The cave is only a little further, said George, just below those big bolders up ahead.

***

The entrance to the cave was partially hidden by plant growth and Mountain Laurel, but Jim could see the dark opening high above them, about twenty yards up on the side of the mountain. A big flat rock jutted out through the underbrush.

“That’s it,” George said, “Let’s go up and see if there is anything in it.

“What do you think we might find?” asked Jim.

“Probably nothing this time of year. The cave is rather shallow and not likely deep enough for a den. But keep your eyes open for anything unusual.”

George called Old Blue to come along up and explore around the cave entrance. As Blue came bounding back through the brush a Ruffed Grouse sprang up and flew off into the laurel. Blue was ecstatic with excitement. Barking loudly, he took off after the bird. George called him back and they continued up the mountain side.

Reaching the entrance they noticed that the dead leaves were lying there untouched for quite awhile. Blue stopped, sniffed the leaves, and wandered on into the cave. It was empty as they suspected.

George took his flashlight from his pack and shown it into the cave.

“Nothing has been living in here for some time,” George said. “This sure does bring back a lot of memories.” Right back there in the corner is where I hunkered down for the night, during the blizzard.

“You were lucky you remembered this place,” Jim mused. “You might not have made it home alive if you hadn’t.”

I almost didn’t anyway,” thought George to himself.

“Go ahead, Jim. Crawl back in there and see what it feels like.”

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Listen to the Wind

Younger days // pounds lighter // full of energy

I climbed the mountain at Hone Quarry

all the way to the top

where winds speak harshly

and pines bend and twist

downwind in their wake

I paused to rest // sitting still

eavesdropping on nature

whispering secrets

Today is Quadrille Monday, when we write a poem of exactly 44 words. Kim asked us to use the word eavesdrop in any form we like as our prompt. I decided to take my eavesdropping to the top of the mountain in the George Washington National Forest, in Virginia. I was amazed at how twisted the short scrub pines were up there. The wind up there never seems to stop blowing across the top. This is a train of consciousness poem.

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Weathered Image

Grandfather Mountain

Can you see the face // weathered and worn

Like a long lost Egyptian Pharaoh // unrapped

after two thousand years in the heart of a pyramid?

Rugged and strong // the image of dominating power

Lies with face to the sun // the rain // the snow and ice.

Exfoliation giving character and increasing interest.

Can you imagine this face // created at the beginning of time

shaped and molded at creation by the hand of God

raised up // unearthed to lay forever looking to the sky

reminding all who dare walk on his forehead…

that he will out last us all!

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Image of Grandfather Mountain, NC: Dwight L. Roth