Chasing Sunsets

I remember
getting up late
in the winter one year
and going out to chase
the last bit
of sun
and running into you.

We went to Fire and Water
and sat there for a minute
before inspiration struck
and we decided
to go climb Bare Mountain.

Even though
it was pretty late,
we thought if we rushed,
we could make it to
the top for the sunset.

Of course, it was January
and there was slick
ice-covered snow
all over that steep trail
and we had to drive
a half hour to start,
but we went
and ran up that trail,
and fell over and
slid back a lot,
and missed the sunset
but reached the top
and then falteringly
made our way down
in the dark.


And it turned into
a thing we did
that winter.

Not planned,
always at the last minute
when we bumped into
each other in town,
we'd say "I bet
we can make it up
______ mountain
and see the sunset
if we rush!
Let's go!"

And we'd get
partway up
and notice the sun
going down,
and head off-trail,
straight up the hillside,
punching holes in the
ice crust to keep
our hold,
and rushing, and slipping
and sending ice-chunks
zipping down behind us
and never make the top
in time
and laughing at each other
when we fell over
and over
on the way down.

We never, never
saw the sunset
from a peak,
but it was
such a good winter.


-Jim DuBois
Dec 22, 2014

Jeremiah

I remember that time
we were walking
along the Holyoke ridge
and you said,
"It looks like these
are basalt columns
that thrust up
through the earth
about 200 million years ago,"
and I thought,
"he just wants to sound
like he's smart,"
but the plaque
at the end of the trail
said almost exactly
what you had.

Another time
we were talking on the phone
and you mentioned
that some days
you only try to have
as much motivation
as is needed
to do the immediate
next thing,
such as reach the doorknob
and leave a room,
and I thought,
"he's just trying
to sound inspirational,"
but many many years later
I still think about
what a helpful perspective
you offered me.

Now, I'm glad
that despite my momentary cynicisms
I got to see your mind
functioning well.


-Jim DuBois
Sep 10, 2009

Summer Musings

I. The Mountain

On the trip up the mountain,
I think about how, in life,
as opposed to in stories,
there are a lot of loose ends
and characters you meet briefly
that seem interesting
but play no further part.

I wonder about the people I met today.
Do they figure prominently?
Are they major or minor figures
in this mini-drama?


II. Skinny-Dipping

Sometimes, seeing girls naked is relaxing
because there are no longer any secret hidden mysteries
that they might have.
They are just people with bodies.
And boobs become just,
well, boobs.


III. The Neighborhood

Walking around the neighborhood,
I am amazed by the community and closeness
people could have, but don't.
There is so much quietness and distance
packed into a small area.
It's as if everyone is holed-up
in their own castle,
waiting out the siege.


-Jim DuBois
June, 2007

Overlooked

I hear there is more
    old growth forest left in Massachusetts
    than they thought.

In narrow bands,
    too high for logging,
    too low to clear for skiing,
        they stand in the mountains
            like they always have
                because no one had a use
                    for the place they lived.

And I want to look
    behind a person’s eyes,
        to the ruined landscape,
                to the left-over places
                of their minds
            just to see what
                is still growing there,
                    undisturbed
                        by the turbulence
                            of oppression.

Those places that went un-noticed
    by society,
    the places they forgot were there.


-Jim DuBois
January 20, 1999

Walking Shirtless (Sept 17, 2005)

Walking shirtless
up a back trail
at Mt. Tom,
I feel the airy spider-webs
cross my chest

Running back down
I am drenched
by the sudden rain


-Jim DuBois

Mt. Tom (Sept 17, 2005)

Wandering in the remnants of time
the rotting tree trunks
the glacier-strewn rocks

Lost in the aftermath of the past
the decomposing leaves
the cracked basalt boulders

Even the new trees
root
in the bones
of their ancestors


-Jim