Can see you standing, looking out. That view. The images. Adventures start out in the dark, real or imaginary. I hope yours move into gleaming in good ways.
Thanks Patris. I like your take on the dark. I'm not sure if this is clear, but the time sequence of the poem is a little confusing. It jumps from eastern Washington (the state) at sunset in the present tense of the poem (as shown in the photo) to a memory of two mornings prior waking up in a motel in Montana. Whether you got that or not, your take on it is on target as usual. Thank you.
Can see you standing, looking out. That view. The images. Adventures start out in the dark, real or imaginary. I hope yours move into gleaming in good ways.
Thanks Patris. I like your take on the dark. I'm not sure if this is clear, but the time sequence of the poem is a little confusing. It jumps from eastern Washington (the state) at sunset in the present tense of the poem (as shown in the photo) to a memory of two mornings prior waking up in a motel in Montana. Whether you got that or not, your take on it is on target as usual. Thank you.
Cloud tops?
What's the question? The teeth are houses on a ridge line.
That was the answer.
All lovely until "the future strange as an empty tomb..." -- aiyee!
Jesus in a motel room.
Which line I hereby claim for a future poem.
oh indeed! Sweet memories of the wow of mighty Columbia and floating, fishing, the Yakima.
Thank you for bringing the returned memoir of those memories.
Thank you, Alexandra, and you’re welcome 🙏
That poem flows like the Confluence of the Yakima and the Columbia!
Thanks Karen. In other words, murkily 🙂
Love the sky in this photo!