I woke before dawn
done with it all
As numb and fogged over
as the waning Georgia moon.
Bending morning muscles
beneath a canopy
of mountain laurel and oak,
I hear her rambling
toward Sautee-Nacoochee.
She came from
last night’s rainstorm
across Yonah mountain.
Residual daughter
of eruption and fire.
She persists westward
with eyes fixed on Atlanta.
Even as she is hushed
and nearly imperceptible,
She is deft and dodging
Face-first against moss and stone
and branches caked with
fallen leaves.
With resigned determination
She presses forward
To some final arrival.
By tomorrow morning,
even before light breaks
she will spill herself whole
into the Chattahoochee River.
Restored and still
at last.