Campsite #14


Campsite #14

The last shadow of the mountain

looks like a hand

cupped to receive something small,

fragile.  Everything else is purple.

The purple of bright pink

that has been tipped toward blue, then righted

at the actual shade

of the mountains’ majesty.

The end of the daylight

on the tree-covered slopes glows

red, purple, orange.

The moon rises, swelling white in

the robin’s egg sky.

All seems still at this

dusk except the

constant cackle of Slough Creek.

Returning to the mountains,

the shadow hand is still cupped

waiting to catch some tiny treasure.

Ah, Yellowstone,

how you restore me,

get me back to the truth.

How do I keep you

with me as I venture back into

the world of anger, politics, impatience,

greed, speed, and distraction?

I will take you with me.  Bison, pronghorn,

sagebrush, thermophiles, geysers,

and the purple mountains’ majesty.

Oh! Now, you are almost all shadow.

The shadow of the hand

reaches to receive

the shadow of the mountains.

Kingfishers chitter up and down the creek,

and now the mountains are grey,

glacier blue, like going back

to their beginning.


All Text Copyright 2020 – Adrienne S. Wallner/Jaeger