Down Watkins Hill
Between Hilda's and Gibb's
Glimpsed only at snowmelt:

North on the Horizon
Between the West Hills,
For seconds only:

White from its height,
Pink, perhaps gold
In the Sunrise:

A Summit beyond the Basin--
Northward flowing waters,
To the Snake--to the Sea.

The Universal Sea, all
Returning homeward, swallowed
Up in the great Gray-green;

It does not hold here,
Not in this Valley of Saints;
All water ends Lakeward--

Salt Dead, confined by Hills,
Vastness viewed easily
From an Eastern Ridge.

But with the Spring,
In that moment's Brightness--
My Heart still knows The Sea.

05/26/2004

Author's Note: Springfever.

Posted on 05/27/2004
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes