Mountain Fog

Mountain Fog Mineral Rights I was six. From the hospital I could see the river, orange, each rock coated like fool's gold. My father said it was acid from the mines. My arm would heal, he said, but not the river tainted with coal. Now there's a dam downstream, the water cobalt-blue, not sky-blue like other lakes, but chemical blue. No fishing here. The natives race their powerboats and water-ski. At night the water's dead and silent like the mines. -Thomas D. Burkett Something you can hardly put your finger to moved into town last night, with all its bags, as we slept. This morning, upon waking, we see its magic worked on our sleepy town. Our mountain, who has stood behind us, is gonealong with the range of hills that were our stolid neighbors. The backyard is smallerthe children's sandbox littered with toy trucks, pail and shovel, the doghouse with rusted chain. Beyond that tall pine lies what new land? Is surf rolling beyond that cloud veil? Or is a river falling? We need our landmarks back, our old faithful ones to reassure us this is the way we have come before. Unsure now if we are on the right path, we slow, look twice. Place our feet carefully. First one step, then another, discovering our way. The earth beneath our feet telling us as we wade through mist this new world of cloudy shapes, froth of waves, mountain mist is still the old world underneath it all. -Philip Paradis 41 ...