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| Snowman spokesman at Lake Wenatchee, Washington |
Sagging, lumpy carrot-nose guide
Sweats, sublimes, way past his prime
Shows immortality is denied
Explains the sites in pantomime
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| Looking toward the West end of Lake Wenatchee |
Slithering cloud-snakes
Thread the valleys
That cradle lakes
Await or’ darkened river alleys
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| Emerald Island at Lake Wenatchee State Park |
The car spiraled ever higher
‘Till the sky, I imagined, I might just touch
And all the hills and trees conspire
To grasp the stars, and clouds and such
Enchanted highlands
Cold silver lakes
Hide emerald islands
Beneath snowflakes
A chaste white veil of innocence
Hides a hard-used landscape
Unaware of any sinfulness
Stare at virgin scenes and gape
Life rains from clouds
Collects in polished mirror chalices
Courses down ‘neath nebulous shrouds
Past granite spires like holy palaces
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| Icicle Creek off Icicle Road |
Winter’s ambitious annual campaign
Chases flame-red leaves off trees
Convinces bears that death is to feign
Offers streams options to freeze
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| Scene along Icicle Creek |
Short days only interrupt long nights
Salmon pink horizons only look warm
Jade rivers from the frozen heights
Run fast or sculpted ice will form
Refrigerators preserve our food
By slowing down molecules
Perhaps Nature to Winter is similarly imbued
Essential time traveling tools
The sign said “Modern Apartments”
Or maybe it was just a label
As if some bureaucratic labeling department
Said I was, in fact, a table
A tiny brick box
Under the worldwide sky
Listening to a pastor’s Jesus talks
Behind a Roman temple façade…but why?
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| Looking across the Wenatchee Valley toward the Enchantment Range from Peshastin Pinnacles State Park |
Hiking round unusual geography
Found myself in Middle Earth I think
Though inexpert in cartography
In distance, Misty Mountains wink
Do fruit trees like life in the orchard?
Are they proud to be part of an interspecies team?
Or in disciplined lines, are they systemically tortured?
Clinging to half-remembered sapling dreams?
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| Some of the pinnacles beyond the entrance to Peshastin Pinnacles State Park |
Mysterious portals
The iconography of dreams
What paths beyond await we mortals?
Half a dozen sandstone spires, it seems.
They walked on ahead
Unconscious steps in obvious synch
Some common purpose – well wed
Time-tested team-link
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| Front Street, Leavenworth, Washington |
The mystery of Leavenworth
On every store and restaurant
In every case, there is no dearth
Of the same Bavarian font
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| Cars maneuvering for parking spots on Front Street on Saturday night |
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| A wedding at the Front Street Gazebo |
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| Night descends on downtown Leavenworth |
Though I like your thoughtful rhyming,
ReplyDeleteof humanity, nature, god and ego;
all I seek are reels unwinding,
‘twould be better with Kip and Rico
Just checking to make sure you're not posting any more Native American rock art pictures or locations cause,..you know, that stuff's just for us enlightened and entitled Forest Service types and not you unwashed masses. sincerely, that Jurgen guy
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