Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Passing Mount Hood

The road goes higher through a tight
repetition of tall green-black furs.
The sun breaks cover to spotlight
neon green moss, clinging
to a high cascade of fallen rock.
Then an opening of glowing
red and gold deciduous trees.

Coming around a curve,
the white mountain
in all its spectral hugeness,
icy blue pinnacles,
creaking glaciers,
trails, avalanches,
a mountain that
made all the local land.

Beyond the pass,
ever smaller furs
then none at all. 
A mesa with scrub fields,
Indian horses.
The dry side.
Still the mountain.
This all belongs to it.

5 comments:

  1. What a beautiful vision you paint here. I feel like I am turning the corner and seeing it with you. Beautiful!

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  2. I love the mountains. I live in WV where we have beautiful views but those western mountains are so rugged and beautiful they take my breath. Lovely poem, Lorna

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  3. Lorna, this is lovely. So happy to see you writing to my prompt. I especially love this part:

    "red and gold deciduous trees."

    Pamela

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  4. nice...i have taken that road...so familiar territory for me, though it has been like 14 years....

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  5. This is gorgeous. I just checked out your profile and see that you're in Oregon, but parts of this poem remind me a little of Northern Arizona and Southern Colorado (I lived in Arizona as a little girl...and I really miss it).

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