Abandoned Quarry (New England Trail Haibun)

After crossing State Route 57, I pass large concrete barrier blocks colorfully graffitied, a rusting metal gate, and bullet-holed signs warning “DANGER.”  Behind them, a broad gravel road crunching underfoot is lined with crowded young pines.  Suddenly, the thick tree canopy disappears, light spills onto the ground, and I stand dazzled beneath horseshoe shaped cliffs several stories tall.

Lit fiery orange, late afternoon sun throws the wall’s fractured, cleft, and angular facets into high relief like an old man’s leathery face lined with time, work and worry.  Embraced by this carved rock amphitheater, I sense the grandeur and gravitas of a ruined Roman arena.  Sounds of blasting were once the crowd’s roar when steel, diesel breathing gladiators flexed their hydraulic muscles to shovel and crush stone.

Once high as the cliffs, the quarry floor is unnaturally flat, colonized by grasses and sparse clumps of pine, juniper, and spindly birch.  In a space where the destructive power of man and machine carried away part of a mountain in pieces for construction of roads and structures, I’m enticed by an irresistible beauty as stark as a southwestern butte.  Slowly, ever so slowly, this place grows feral again.

mountain hauled away
scar of unnatural grace
time and nature heal