Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Longing for Mountains in Autumn
Longing for Mountains in Autumn
Here I am in mid-season,
or else something beginning once more,
why was it I came here.
In the distance
the mountains,
waiting for their coming drapery of snow
(but not yet, not yet,
says the voice within.)
Yet always I remain
the prisoner of this city,
its compelling vistas,
once a haven for seekers of gold
their pickaxes and scales,
or was it the gods
come to play
among the golden scent of summer?
Like Moses
I have arrived
at the margin,
but must keep my arms aloft
for the others,
I cannot go in.
Surely this is a beginning,
not a place of termination.
Or perhaps
merely a sanctuary of waiting.
They tell me
that in the high country
the aspen leaves have already fallen,
their colorful orgasms
completed
once more without my witness.
Dorothy Walters
September 28, 2014
