Friday, February 18, 2011

a mountain summer.

As February plods along, and I keep spying comments from my friends back in North Carolina about how beautiful the weather is there right now, I cannot help but reminisce about last summer. The summer I thought I might be leaving the Carolina mountains for good, the summer that saw so many memories made and much laughter heard. I didn't know it then, but it was the beginning of my realization, my realization that I love those mountains, and those forests and creeks--they had become part of who I am.
I've never been a huge poetry writer, I tend more for prose myself, but last summer I was incited to compose a poem. When I did rarely write poetry it was usually about longing for somewhere I wasn't, the occasional nature poem, or something about Jeremy and me. But this came out of no where, and I had to write it down, then I honed it, perfected it, and ended up loving it. It was like nothing I'd ever written before. It's one of those poems that you've written and you vaguely recognize the people in it, the feelings, and the surroundings, but it's not quite you--it's like your life in an alternate reality, if that makes sense. A poesy-version of your life.
Well, all this talk of spring and my recent discovery of my belonging to that place has made me remember that poem, and I thought I would share with you all. So without any more explanation, here it is.

Carolina Mountain Song

I’ll keep these memories in a mason jar, this sweet Carolina summer.
We make muggy memories while sipping sweet tea that clinks with amber ice on the porch,
The glasses in our hands sweating as much as we are.
But we don’t care much because we have each other, sweat and all.           

Our salty skin sticks together in a brief embrace.
The heat may restrain the physical touch of our promises,
But cannot hinder the way his eyes linger, like a honeybee over a new flower, on my face; my chest,
Breathing, glistening in the summer sun, as a river of salt runs down my dress.

Gloaming in the mountains has descended, and we revel in her mystery.
A vividly pale beauty that encompasses every color and none at all in one glance
The mountain song wings through the trees, touching every oak and pine
That air finds its way to us and plays us her music, sweet like summer strawberries, beneath the fading light.

The sun hides her face behind the ridges, but the heat doesn’t seem to notice
Pinks and purples color the sky in shades only found on a night like this once in your life
They creep across the misty mountains with otherworldly shades and shadows.
He tucks a dark curl behind my ear and sings a song meant for only me and these mountains.

Orchestras of lightning bugs are lightening up the twilit trees against a craggy blue,
And the smell of rain is fragrant on the evening breeze.
Oh, that breeze! Our own little piece of heaven
In this humid heat you could cut with a knife.

“Well… it’s a nice night for a knife fight.”
He says in a drawl more southern than my red gingham dress.
His green eyes meet my blue ones and we laugh and sigh together
For our last sweet summer in high Carolina.

by Caitlin B. Foreman 

Well, hopefully that can tide me over a wee bit until spring really does make herself known here in Scotland, and until I can go back and appreciate the summer dusk of the Carolina mountains once again.



Life with Kaishon said...

Oh my gosh! I love the poem. Like out of this world LOVE it! You are very good! And that picture? Wowzers! I am visiting via your comment at Enjoying the Small Things tonight. So nice to meet you!

Caitlin said...

Thank you so much!

Faith said...

Your posts as of late have been making me reminisce. This poem makes me so desperate for summer! I love hearing all that you are learning and experiencing, your thoughts always spark many of my own. Thanks!

Sam said...

I agree with faith. I'm very reminiscent when I read your posts. Its odd knowing that our return to Carolina is not a sure one. Thank you for sharing.