By David De Jong
Brain’s a little weary, scrambled askew,
Took a little ride, reminiscin’ the view.
Miles of asphalt, up an old mountain highway.
Got some aches and pains, where I’d rather not say.
Yet every second, of each and every mile;
Glimpses of heaven, with a permanent smile.
Ripened grain in the fields, burst of nourishment,
Farmers wavin’ with sense of accomplishment.
Old burned out prairies, growin’ abundant life.
Stands of cottonwood turned silver, fannin’ strife:
Still showin’ scars with their blackened chars of coal,
Sacredly shimmerin’, like a holy scroll.
Wooly cattle grazin’, rollin’ pasture hills.
Distant horse herds whisperin’, echoin’ chills.
Mule deer, white tail, and prong horn, fillin’ the gaps;
They all knew their way, while we followed our maps.
Alpine lakes strikin’ life, with their cold, hard blues.
Sweepin’ meadows displayin’, uncounted hues.
Frosted pines on the peaks, no one could reach.
Simply a message, impossible to preach.
Canyons and crevices, coyotes and snakes,
Bound and determined, for what-ever it takes.
We look with wonder and savor its romance;
How can this all be, by accidental chance?