The early sun
passing through the red-gray stems
of the river trees
casts long shadows into the snowfields.
The river is dark and shiny;
the buttes above shoulder the sky
and repeat a winter theme.
I love this quiet,
this lockdown of activity.
We should take the time to dream.
The only sound is the thrum of my truck engine,
the only movement
is the heated air
escaping through my open truck window,
wavering the scene.
I’m glad I live in America,
where we have conquered fire
and have fuel to do much and build much,
and to view this winter morning.
The shadows are shortened;
now the sun is higher,
and the sycamore trunks show white
among the red-gray branches.
I shut down my truck
and listen to the quiet.
The shadows pulling back into the trees
make no sound.
Only the river going down has a voice,
rubbing frozen banks and islands in the way.
What a day!
- © Gerry Sackett, 2011
|Sycamore; photo by Tony Russell|