Independence, Oregon

Green fields, like emeralds where the ransom for a day's peace is only a deep breath.
The trees run across the ridge like that same squirrel's tail, the one who wanted nothing to do with you.
Sunlight spackles the clouds and the hues of blue come and go in the passing shade -
From beneath such pillows, briefly escaping the bright of day - sanctuary from above;
The hills roll into the switchbacks down the mountain side, where gravity accelerates everything.


Pulling the axles and the wheels into position along the curved roads takes more concentration than it's worth.
Steering a car is a matter of survival but it can be quite restrictive.
Staying inside the lines is such an ingrained skill, you hardly notice what it might be like
If the our scientific boundaries permitted us flight or excavation.  We might not need such constraints
Such that we might soar over land and tunnel through the earth - alas, these are not our talents.


Nevertheless, this is some world of imagination, where the jade and amber hillsides touch upon a dream. 
Here in the sanctuary of space and freedom can lines blur into a cascading wave of emotion.
For words to matter the brain must indignantly connect with this Earthly reality.
Yet among the clouds and the leaves, the spirit can soar like not like an animal but, instead, deified.
The elastic nature of the universe is always reluctant to reveal itself but when the irons are shed
One may pause and feel the freedom of one's outstretched arms, unbound, capable in any space,
When one finally arrives here in Independence after having travelled from anywhere else.