into vacation

into the mountains

I drive from the night into the day,
high clouds hug an intermittent Moon
until I pull out of the long piedmont
and rain begins to dog me the last hundred miles,
the downpour starts as drizzle
and lightning shouts at me, narrow pillars from cloud to ground,
within a second or two five appears before me early on,
when the rain downpours enough to turn the streams around me brown
the light flickers as if a switch is being quickly turned on & off,
my plans change and change again,
as dirt roads in search of elk lose appeal,
the rain pauses and reveals views of high ridges and strata of clouds,
I almost choose the high mountain road in hopes of flowers and shifting views,
the fear of obscuring fog tilts me away,

I stop by the grocery and stock up,
get to the cabin, unload, and briefly notice house, yard, and stream,
the rosebay rhododendron shakes me enough so that I notice it,








the storm returns, I nap, the creek starts to mildly roar,
I cook for my guests coming in tomorrow,
and then I take the time to go down by the fulling creek,
without thinking I just whoop, and a chill shivers my spine.

by Henry Walker
June 19, ’11