I was brought up and still live in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia so I rely on imagery derived from the natural landscape to explore human relationships. My wife, Elizabeth, and I have two daughters and three grandchildren. I have been an architectural woodcarver for over 35 years and have written numerous articles and three books on the subject. My poems are forthcoming in Able Muse, The Chariton Review, Plainsongs, Poetry Quarterly, and Snowy Egret among others.
The Great Humble
Our boys wander upland woods returning
hours later with pockets of quartz,
abandoned snail shells, a molted feather—
always souvenirs of their meaning.
Their mouths pucker from piquant persimmons.
It is not by maps or guidebooks they know
forest perspectives, but by vine-spiraled
saplings, the lichen-doilied boulder,
by silent hues of clouds overhead.
Their trail finds its own trusting feet.
Their blue-jeaned knees muddied
by close inspections, they empty
their afternoon onto the kitchen table—
discoveries to be saved, possessed, stories to be made.
As all young men, they ask questions of us
which we cannot answer in honesty.
We give them milk and cookies to bribe
them toward baths and clean pajamas and tomorrow.
© 2017 Frederick Wilbur
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