I like this, Gary: Northern natural history stuff. Long trekky sort of
rhythm,
and 'the joy of home runs deep' is a good ending, makes you think of the
salmon runs etc. Sally-ee.
Sally-ee, thanks. S 2 a bit preachy so I have this alternative version...
Gary
The Lower Left Corner Traveled
Along the crooked roads of the river's shore,
tide laps the shoulder, hungry to roam the fields.
In stands of stunted fir attired in smoky leaf lichen,
rough-legged hawks wait for the water to recede.
Crooked roads twist and turn along the Columbia
though towns left high and dry by depleted salmon runs.
Around stump and hillock, over creeks and marsh,
the crooked roads wind north around Willipa Bay.
On this pale day, heron, elk and osprey melt away,
the long journey home miles of uninteresting road.
Oyster beds, farms cut from tide flats, wood carvers
and isolated taverns the highlights of this long trip.
Until one last river forded, the last inlet sighted
to remind me the warm, simple joy of home runs deep.
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Poets for Peace. ˇPoemas sí, balas no!
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