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

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

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

Ah, the Universal Sea,
All returning homeward,
Swallowed in the great Gray-green.

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

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

But with Springtime's Glimpse,
That Northwest Brightness,
And I Know the Sea.

02/18/2007

Author's Note: Highway 30 between Gibbs' and the old Johnson place.

Posted on 02/18/2007
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes