Lee Evans

At the foot of Dorr Mountain
your feet walk straight out
from the Wild Gardens of Acadia
into the sphagnum bog,
on a boardwalk of two planks
that run parallel among white birches,
skunk cabbage, violets and fern.
Your memory seeks to remind you
of what Eternity might mean;
so you walk for fifteen minutes or so,
until the planks abruptly end,
and the sphagnum invites you to step out
like Peter on the Sea of Galilee—
but you left your car unlocked.
You turn around to retrace your steps.
The white birches surround you,
trembling like exclamation marks.
The sky is a luminous cloud,
stooping among the bog laurels.