From Here to the Coast

Narrow road scars high mountains.
Green-yellow grass bends with the wind.
We’ll never know what lies tucked into the folds of trees.
 
We cut through the passes that hold themselves strong
and wind down sharp into blind ravines then back up
like slow pilgrims on the steep angles of a foreign land.
 
Wood and wire fence stakes the rounded edge of some forgotten boundary.
Gray, splintering posts have stood so long they can only stand still.
We crest another pass and sink a little seeing the mountains to come.
 
The hardest part of anything is just before the end.
All the hours and all the miles multiply their fatigue,
but I know the sun will dim in the salt mist of ocean spray.
 
Narrow road scars high mountains.
Green-yellow grass bends with the wind.
We’ll never know what lies tucked into the folds of trees.
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9 Responses to From Here to the Coast

  1. fiveloaf says:

    the mysteries of nature is hidden within the crevices and folds of trees, rocks etc. the mystery of man lies inside their own heart where they’d never find it! love your writing! here’s my new year potluck- http://fiveloaf.wordpress.com/2010/03/15/life/

  2. Jingle says:

    beautiful entry..
    Glad to see you in.

    A+

  3. Ina says:

    I loved this calm verse,” We cut through the passes that hold themselves strong
    and wind down sharp into blind ravines then back up
    like slow pilgrims on the steep angles of a foreign land.” Beautiful!

  4. I love trees and their wisdom….and they have many folds. Brilliant poem.

  5. Jingle says:

    visit me and join poets rally if you wish…

    Happy Weekend.
    Thanks for the support to potluck.

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