7/26

In the shade beneath an Oregon tree
I asked the powers that be
When it was hot and dry and maddeningly
monotonous in a tunnel of pine,
I asked them to remind me of the thrill
within the hill. So the sky spoke
back as we climbed acrross a bare and
broken ridge, a black chain of shale
suspended three thousand feet high.
The clouds opened to speak with hail.
First the long low grumble of thunder,
then the cold winds, then the rain
and then the hail came to remind us
we were tiny guests in a giant home.
The high and black mountain
we were climbing was called Devil's peak.
So we walked right to the front door,
through the darkness and rain,
and told him to fuck off. This is our terrain.