COMMUNITY CONSERVATION, VERMONT
“All we need to do is step aside”
Announcing six new poems by Sean Prentiss, inspired by Woodbury Mountain Wilderness Preserve
NEWT participates in a collaborative project called Writing the Land, which pairs poets with protected lands. Poets are invited to spend time in Nature with the unique wonders of conserved landscapes to inspire all-new poems. The project is described as “an attempt to honor nature and our relationship with it in a way that is as equitable and transparent as it is deep and entangled.”
Poet Sean Prentiss has shared six new poems written during his time in residency at our Ambassador preserve in Vermont, Woodbury Mountain Wilderness Preserve. His new poems highlight the a depth and wisdom that are at times bold, as with “This Mountain Cares Nothing,” and at other times calm and lyrical, as with “Aging Tree in Sunlight in a Wilderness Preserve.”
Woodbury Mountain Wilderness Preserve protects vast, carbon-rich forests and wetlands in Vermont and more than 39 miles of headwater streams. At 6,098 acres, it is the largest non-governmental wilderness area in the state of Vermont. Learn more about this Preserve here.
It is our pleasure to share this series of poems with you.
Natural Climate Solution
by Sean Prentiss
The maturing forests of
Woodbury Mountain clutch
five hundred thousand tons
of carbon within heartwood
otherwise to be chainsawed
back into our atmosphere if
we only dreamed in log length.
Instead, if we dream this forest
into forever-wild, another
six hundred thousand tons of
carbon will be inhaled by
matured forests. A natural climate
solution requiring nothing more
than for you and you and me
to step back, do nothing, allow
this mountain preserve, these
trees, to age into old growth.
This Mountain Cares Nothing
by Sean Prentiss
This mountain traverses into four towns—
Worchester, Woodbury, Elmore,
and Hardwick.
The mountain knows these are false borders,
lines drawn to feel as if
we control what is most wild.
Woodbury Mountain cares nothing
about us. It does what it does, and we pretend
to have some say in its existence.
World Grow Wild
by Sean Prentiss
These maples, beech, ash,
white pines, hemlock,
and birches through
photosynthesis inhale
carbon dioxide from our
humid air, fix it to their sugars,
release oxygen,
converting carbon into
their living being,
into their growing biomass
till they die, rot,
fall to the slopes of
Woodbury Mountain.
There is no better
carbon capture technology
in the world
than these trees slowly sinking
roots into soil,
slowly reach toward
our sky, leaves blooming
out in greedy grabs
for all the carbon
we would love to rid
ourselves of.
All we need to do is step aside
and let this world grow wild.
Untitled
by Sean Prentiss
These mornings, fog obscures the peak,
sags low, veils the twin waterfalls,
recharged by September’s steady rain.
Fog moves as if alive, slowly rising, falling,
dissipating, gathering, obscuring. It turns
this mountain into something fractured,
piecemeal, mysterious. I gaze up, into
fog’s obscurity, and see Woodbury
Mountain as if for the first time.
Aging Tree in Sunlight in a Wilderness Preserve
by Sean Prentiss
Upper branches
of old maple
grab toward
dawn glistening
upon autumn’s bark.
It is a dream to know
this maple will stretch
for the suns of all seasons
till it ages, withers, weakens,
just as I am doing.
It and me, we will die here
in the place of our roots.
Let us die the way we are
meant to, roots rotting,
bodies decomposing back
into the soils of our home.
And Still
by Sean Prentiss
This morning, as with every morning, our sun first gently settles upon the highest crests of Woodbury Mountain. This morning, as with every morning, our sun slowly pours itself lower upon the slopes and rock faces of Woodbury Mountain. This morning, as every morning, our sun settles itself upon the valley floor and then migrates west until it reaches this house where I am finally illuminated in late sunlight.
All of this happens this morning and every morning and will continue until I am buried nearby, until this house crumbles into earth, until these white pines and sugar maples tumble home and decompose, until this mountain range, already half a gigaannum old and weary, erodes itself into plains and prairie, and still our sun, this morning as with every morning, will shine upon our Woodbury Mountain wildness.
Photography by Sophi Veltrop