Remnants of the past…embedded.
Curled inside chalky lava flows
Stuck to a shape…ripples in stone.
Only elements change its appearance.
I and everything wait for the rain.
The parched flowers and grasses
Fragile skin, stalks, browns and beiges.
Bloomed full, so easily, last spring.
The bridge is out, lower in the canyon
Where the Klickitat heads for Mt. Adams.
Along the dryness, scattered tree limbs
So light, they remind me of bones.
Whitened and greyed by summer
I imagine them becoming a form
A collage of life, blood, and image
Uneven substance, knees, elbows, heart
I feel a sprinkle. It passes quickly.
Once, I believed your hands were so soft
I thought they were made of petals.
Now, I know that I was right.
For, I’m the one who made you.
Forced to walk close to the highway
I pass a row of old houses
Where the highway bends between bluffs
Carrying an assortment of sticks, limbs, knots
The dogs bark at everyone.
|32 – Rain *… on Mountain Rain|
|Elan Mudrow on No Dreaming Required|
|Elan Mudrow on One Spin Around|
|the little spark on No Dreaming Required|
|beautifulbarbadosblo… on One Spin Around|