layered mountains in the distance
faded colors of browns and greys
pines with vibrant greens layered
in the foreground of vision...
heavy fog weaves its way through
pocket valleys down in-between
what was... and, what is...
orange clouds meet a blue horizon
darker ones squeeze inside, letting
us know rain might be coming.
early morning or early evening
the view is always the same,
more or less locals presume,
casting doubts on northerners
thinking they know a thing or two.
atop a ridgeline, we sit, not with
a camera or a phone - this is our
home and has been that way pretty
much near all our lives, except
for the times not remembered,
relying on those to tell us so...
yonder we live, in the second
valley, just a few miles off the
two lane, where the road forks
twice and the willow guards the
entrance to the golden pond.
May 19, 2025
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