We spent a lonely night there
Thirty years ago—Gravel Creek—cold—
And the only ones in the campground—
I still show the shell fossil I found—
Treasure from the wild lands of Idaho.

Now occasion brought me back again--
A dark arrival in late September—
Yellowing aspens, withered grass, dry earth.
But there was a bright campfire burning
And a horse trailer haphazardly parked
Near the pay-post sign and gate,
All outside the Forest Service zone—
And space just enough for my Toyota—
No need to pay the eight bucks.
“But I should ask, courtesy (and hope), I think
Makes even one-night-neighbors better"—
Moose hunters—Richfield, Idaho— and
With common acquaintance established
(Accomplished in minutes only),
We talked like friends for better than an hour—
The economy, growth, water, utilities, camp,
The poverty and drudgery of agriculture,
And weird rich people from California—
Then with an exchange of names,
I crossed the creek, shuffled my gear,
Made my truck bed, walked my two miles,
(Road only—hearing coyotes—thinking cougars)
Then turned in restlessly for the night—but,
Sleep had left me--I gazed heavenward
Straight north beyond my feet, Cassiopeia, Draco,
The Little Dipper circling around the North Star:
“If I could hie to Kolob in the twinkling of an eye . . .”
It was there, He, there, I gazing Heavenward.
And by eleven I was out, awake again at one.
Awake again at three, awake for good at six:
Cassiopeia rotated now across the top
And downward to the West—the stary sky
Not quite milky, but daylight creeping in.
“If I could hie to Kolob. . . to Kolob. . .to Kolob.”

10/07/2010

Author's Note: Road trip to Jackson over Tincup Pass and the mental music of an old Mormon hymn.

Posted on 10/08/2010
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes