We're off to eastern Oregon to re-charge. See ya later.
|Last time I was here, smoke from forest fires made the sunset glow all around.|
Sometimes in the open you look up
where birds go by, or just nothing,
and wait. A dim feeling comes
you were like this once, there was air,
and quiet; it was by a lake, or
maybe a river you were alert
as an otter and were suddenly born
like the evening star into wide
still worlds like this one you have found
again, for a moment, in the open.
--from Atavism, by Oregon poet William Stafford