Mercedes de Acosta

From “Through Windows”

I WATCH the lumbermen

Winding up the mountain

Between the autumn branches.

I see

Leaves gold, red, flame and green,

With flashes of faded blue between

Of their overalls.

Straining and pulling,

Horses brown and soiled white

Stagger up the mountain-side

Before them,

Dragging huge and heavy timber.

Down in the valley

I can hear the echo

Of the men’s muffled curses,

And the quick snap

Of long thin whips.