Tuesday, April 06, 2010

#5 Coming to the mountains . . .

We drove up from the belly of Spokane
into pine-tree studded lakelands,
rolling grassy hills, saw a few cows,
turned west past Ritzville,
clipping along at 70 towards Seattle,
stopped for coffee twice,
then those cloud-shrouded hills came into view,
foothills of the Cascades,
flanked by just plowed fields with signs:
wheat, radishes,
more wheat, more radishes,
apple trees and cherry trees, tidy orchards
barely in bloom, into the Wenatchee Valley,
closer, always closer to the mountains,
unexpected triangles to the sky,
snow-covered, pine-dotted, sky-glazed,
this place
a home for the soul.

1 comment:

  1. I would love to take this drive myself one day--- Washington is so beautiful! In the meantime it is a real treat to read your poem imagining myself there too.