by Leonard M Hawkes
I return for the languages:
Yes, the mountains speak—always have--
(Now almost as past lovers),
And the open sage country sings
The wailing ballad of Wyoming.
On a good day, too,
I'll use my German tongue,
Share my homesick heart in Dutch;
But it’s the artfully filtered visual
Tones in the galleries
(Reverberating certainty to my heart)
That translate, to those voices
Of my Youthful Gods.
Author's Note: On a visit to Jackson,Wyoming
Posted on 06/16/2012
Copyright © 2021 Leonard M Hawkes
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by George Hoerner on 06/16/12 at 04:19 PM|
My eyes eat the sage as if it were tenderloin. This brings back too many memories if there can be such a thing. I hope you had an opportunity to visit the museum just north of town. It is another place I never get tired of seeing. You've made my day. Thanks!!