Poetry

Old starred-Glory leads the way,
a bluebird sky above the fray
of turmoil in the world around,
but not today in this old town.
It’s Wagon Days and days of old
when mines of silver, lead and gold
drove men’s dreams to dust or bust,
now mere history’s silent hush.
We don our boots and western wear
to hail the memory with some flair,
cheering from Sun Valley Road
parade of wagons with their load.
Wagon wheels on asphalt roll
from time-worn mountain pass’s toll.
Characters in period dress
wave at fifteen thousand guests
who celebrate our history past,
watching, waiting ‘til the last
mule-hitched jerk line jingles near.
A silent awe falls quick each year.
The Big Hitch lumbers stately by
and closes summer with a sigh.

September cold but sunny bright
through a window, aspens white.
Snow dust on the mountain tops,
puddled rain we’ll have to hop.
Old friends gathered in this room,
a perfect Sunday afternoon.
Dressy skirts and flannel shirts,
cargo pants and laughter bursts.
Porcelain and gold-rimmed cup,
tea and coffee, fill me up.
Please and thank you for the art
of entertaining to our heart
with stories of the baby grand
now warming up to her command.
Home-school mom and rancher’s wife
begins to build and breathe the life
into the ivories of her soul,
uplifting masters and their scroll.
Filling hearts and appetites
while we listen, nibble bites
of English sandwich with no cheese,
dainty portions, pass more, please.
You don’t say- there is no meat?
Scones so luscious, lemon sweet.
Building now the cres-cendo,
Sonata di-min-u-endo!
A surgeon claps with such delight,
Salesman, painter - so polite.
You, nearby on carpet steps -
your eyes are level with the best.
She rests her thumb between the chords
as we are drawn completely towards.
We need more music, oh, yes, please, 
perfect Sunday afternoon teas.
sleepy eyes with melody,
the entire scene quite heavenly.
No fumble, penalty, or fourth down,
just Mendelssohn’s Prelude so renowned.

Foggy mist upon your face
ethereal this time, this place.
Grey blue skies and agate sand,
barefoot walks go hand in hand.
Pacific rain gives forest sheen,
purple sea star, shells to glean.
Sunset lifting spirits high,
kites aloft with windy sky.
Seals barking ‘midst the rocks,
campfire glow and moonlight talks.
Dolphins flirting off the shore,
myrtle wood, antiques galore.
Skimmer board and sketchbook too,
sandy castles with a view.

I know a place where you can go
to clear your head of status quo,
get off the path, set down your care,
inhale the pine and sage-filled air,
soak up the sky, reach for a star,
yours to hold, they’re not that far.
Plant your feet in steamy springs,
let your soul take flight on wings
‘til the quiet of this realm
fills you up and overwhelms
with peace and prayer and quick reset
then the grind has lost its threat.
I know a place where you can go -
it’s in the heart of Idaho.

I began to scale at winter's end
watched the seasons lean and bend,
embracing age as it appeared
with sixty climbs for sixty years.
Each peak drew me with one step;
strength and purpose in each breath.
The task it lifted spirits high
when at the crest my heart would sigh.
Gone were thoughts of mind and matter,
gone were cares and endless chatter.
I climbed as storms rolled overhead
and green of spring and thaw was spread.
Climbed as flowers colored hills
and birds of summer echoed trills.
Climbed in August’s smoky skies,
a summit always worth the prize.
Climbed as leaves turned into fall
and snow lines dropped with winter’s call.
Climbed up steep to granite heights,
gazing down with sheer delight.
Climbed with friends and canines too,
mountain ranges all in view.
More often, though, I was alone -
a path I came to call my own.
I climbed to crosses, cabins old,
to windy ridges blown with cold,
and watched below as planes took flight,
river ribbons from this height,
fields of green and jeweled lakes,
perspective for the soul awakes.
Nothing meant so much this year
embracing age and all its fears.
I finished right where I’d begun
up on the peak I numbered one.
And what a gift in this pursuit -
a bald eagle soared in lone salute.