The Merger of the Two-Fields
The trail unwinds
To the left and the right
Like a dream ride on
A pendulum
But nothing takes us there
Except for strong legs
And the desire to elevate
The noise of the falls grows
As we ascend left
Fades as we go the other way
Fades without a new increase
In decibels
The yellows the reds the whites
Of the cascades burn —
Trees branch out
Touch one another
Sing to each other
Like mimes you can’t see
Almost peak just past peak
The fire is still there
Leaves cover Her
Leaves appear in the sky
And cover Her ancient noble
Skin
Elevation meets downward flow
We’re always where we aren’t
— by Douglas Pinson
Being Where we Aren’t