Friday, March 18, 2011


We must have driven this road a thousand times, and ridden the valley below as well.

I look up and the sky is a perfect blue, but around me, all you can see is white.

My mind breaks free of my thoughts and I wonder where we are--outside of being inside a cloudbank.

I search for landmarks but the far ones are gone, eaten by the clouds. So I look inward, searching for the familiar in the jumble.

The touch of sunshine grows on my cheek, and at once, impossible blue abounds, the mountain in front of me shining in full glory, reigning above the clouds, truly a queen.

Down below, the river rushes on, while water turning gray, hinting at the runoff to come. By then, the clouds are but a wispy reminder in the sky, hiding behind the mountain, their queen.


  1. Although the visual format looks like prose, when I read it I think of it as a poem. Not sure if that was intended but it sounds cool.

  2. It was written as a poem of sorts, snohomish. I love experimentation with poems. not just the words and the sound and the rhythm and the flow, but how they look on the page. How they feel when you read them. How they sound if you read it out loud. Poetry is a thing I can never force. it just comes and goes where it will.

  3. I can tell you didn't force it but it works so nicely. I can't force a poem, either. When I do it sinks. Even a poem that I'm not thrilled with (or that is just not very good) usually comes out better than one I've thought about or worked on too much.

  4. Haha so very much the truth. I go through long spells when I just Can't write poetry, at all. but when it comes back, natural as a river, it works. really well.