Poet's Platform Column | 28 Aug. 08 by Janet Nesler | The Scioto Voice | Wheelersburg, Ohio

Running Home I can breathe now. One week in the city, I become asthmatic. One week among buildings of my past, places where I shrouded myself in suits, spoke corporate speak, and looked at pictures of mountains during a working lunch makes me break into a cold sweat. People must see it. They must see the tension streaming behind me, a toxic haze as I drive west to breathable air. West to the sounds of coyote calling and pine tree whispers. Like a child late for supper I chase the setting sun home. Robert Kimsey McCaysville, Georgia From: Paths From The Shawnee Spring   The Fawn Today I cast a fly across the East Fork, followed its path in the flow, looked up and there you were. Naïve to the world, fresh spots, tail showing your enthusiasm for life. How many times have my fathers watched your fathers, taken your power? Need not trophies. Not today, little brother. Today we will share the sun and early morning fog, remembering our fathers in this your dwelling place. Robert Kimsey McCaysville, Georgia From: Paths From The Shawnee Spring   Walking In The Forest I walk through the forest and I see Acorns hanging on an old oak tree A bird sings up in the tree so high Its limbs reaching out into the sky Squirrels climb up a Hickory tree They are trying to hide from me I watch as they crawl very slow They have no other place to go A crow flies high up in a blue sky He heads North and I know why There is a field of unpicked corn Losses for an old farmer to mourn Spend a day in the forest and see What He has made for you and me Walk softly or animals you will scare With them this forest we must share Acie Workman Eden Park