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The fingers of the ancestors brush the ridges
of mossy petroglyphs, feather the nostrils
of leaping cave-art horses and stags, and
rattle the stubble of blue-black
corn husk, ancient staple of seasons.

Their fingertips sooth my long hair blowing
in a wind shaking acorns, winnowing
those mini tea cups from oak groves,
swirling the yellow hearts of aspens

whispering to the ginko fans,
that where the dead dug their furrows,
where the horses ran the chase,
blue corn is stored against coming
cold, the passing of so many lives
captive in stone.


Tricia Knoll is an Oregon poet whose work appears in numerous journals and anthologies. Her chapbook Urban Wild is out from Finishing Line Press. In December 2015, Ocean’s Laughter, Aldrich Press – poetry of the northern Oregon coast – will be available on Amazon. Website:

© 2015, Tricia Knoll

One comment on “Touching, by Tricia Knoll

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