The wedding was at the stage stop,
The old hotel built by Godbe the apostate;
Still solid, built of local stone.

And inside the fence, below the willows
We lavished in the May evening,
Congratulating, chatting, reminiscing.

Not until I left, did I hear you at the ford
Singing upward from the waves:
The brown torrent swirling and boiling,
As impassable now as it was then
In the deluge of the melting snow.

Singing upward from the whirlpool's
Deceitfully smooth and wrinkling surface
In the cool heavy air of river dusk,

Beyond the dispersing gathering of guests,
Beyond the well groomed grass and gardens,
The petroleum fired luxury coaches,
The all season graded road and the security
And indulgence of "civilization."

O, Pioneers, and you beyond our word,
I hear you still, hear your last crossing,
Here on the banks of the Bear.

05/25/2005