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Walking Natural Pathways
Walking Natural Pathways
Walking Natural Pathways
Ebook81 pages33 minutes

Walking Natural Pathways

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About this ebook

Walking Natural Pathways is eclectic; each section becomes its own unique ecosystem of thoughts, ideas, and poetic styles.  In essence, this book is a celebration of the natural world and how we percieve it.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherMark Doherty
Release dateFeb 13, 2024
ISBN9798224139057
Walking Natural Pathways
Author

Mark Doherty

Mark Doherty was born and raised in the Colorado Rockies where he developed his passion for both the outdoors and music. After graduating from Western State College of Colorado with a BA in English and Writing, he moved to Moab, Utah where he worked as a guide, musician, and carpenter for nearly ten years. In 1993 he moved to the Salt Lake City area to work as a high school English teacher. He retired from teaching in 2021 and now spends his time writing, playing music, and doing woodworking. In 2016 he completed his MA degree in English, Creative Nonfiction and has produced his sixth manuscript Creativity, Teaching, and Natural Inspiration. His seventh book length work of creative nonfiction will be completed sometime in 2024. In his free time, he and his wife spend as much time as possible hiking, skiing, ocean kayaking, bicycling, and backpacking.

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    Book preview

    Walking Natural Pathways - Mark Doherty

    The Stone 

    Small and round—

    storm-polished,

    it shines in sun

    and glistens in rain.

    Weathering and wind have

    worn rough edges away,

    allowing seam lines and hues to

    reveal its mineral origins.

    Polished Rock  

    If you roll me round in the palm of your hand,

    I no longer grate and scrape like I used to.

    The storms of worry and seasons of struggle,

    the freeze and thaw of rage to realization,

    have worn away my rough edges.

    Yet I’ve retained the lines and colors that shape my roots.

    If you could crack me open,

    you would see the intricate crystals of

    imagination, thought, and experience

    binding me,  holding me together.

    Perhaps someday I’ll be polished smooth

    on the outside like granite over the grave.

    but how sad it would be for you to feel nothing

    of the grains and veins that mix and twist and turn within me.

    The Boy and the Bear

    Frantic, running feet scuffing the surface

    of hard-packed rural dirt road

    are the only other sound he hears—

    aside from perhaps blood pounding

    through quick breathing, and ringing, ears.

    Growl of great bear

    rises from the starry darkness

    of mountain summer night.

    Legs find their way over the bumpy

    gravel road—eternal forested quarter mile

    to home—leaving imagination

    free to anticipate

    claws reaching from behind,

    ravenous red mouth—

    teeth that shine like slivers of new moon

    dripping with saliva

    at the thought of tasting

    a young boy’s blood.

    A distant glimmer of home

    gives breath to wheezing lungs—

    He lunges, in bounds, up the steep driveway

    And slams into home.

    Soon the sound is precisely recounted—

    Father listens,

    the boy’s heart rate calms.

    "Why, Son, have you never heard

    the nighthawk dive to catch the moth?

    That roar of wings

    is alarming when they swoop

    so close to your ears!"

    Predator 

    Grizzly, standing, surveys the clearing

    amidst brushy undergrowth

    where virgin timber sways in mountain winds,

    and ungulates roam the paths

    through forest floors with splashing brooks.

    The cubs have come to learn.

    Wolf, wandering wild, keeps the lonely vigil

    atop the bluff below high peaks

    where tundra rolls into river,

    and caribou migrate in meanders

    toward  green fertility of spring.

    The pack will soon arrive.

    Mountain Lion, staring, statuesque, maintains watch

    upon the granite between trees

    where scrub oak and juniper rise onto the plateau,

    and elk graze in meadow herds

    along sage openings to aspen.

    The pride must now awake.

    Golden Eagle rises on cumulus cloud thermals

    above wild mesas and mountains and canyons

    where grasses and shrubs carpet the clearings,

    and myriad creatures wander hummocks

    amidst meadow, glen and alcove.

    A mate’s piercing cry precipitates a dive.

    Man, stands in the bed, of his pickup truck

    along the ragged dirt track scar

    where erosion gullies create gulches

    and distant lights twinkle glaringly on

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