Late summer, almost fall, it's like I’ve found my childhood
tucked under these cedars —
and I am ten and lazing on hot stone, watching ants.
For the first time in a long time I feel safe,
now I know the old granite wall always
waits for my remembering, somewhere at my physical center,
available, with you on this hike, or even at my city desk
as I scrounge for perfection
(click sites for research, recheck links and spelling
as if these secure a famous future where you hear me,
and everyone gathers to listen to my wisdom).
The past is contained in our dark insides,
coded in chemicals which replace daily. Somehow they flow
the known channels.
The way sentences store a truth even if unwritten.
All day, anywhere, we may dive back to then.
At the pass we gaze north and south.
We see into spaces where time is slow to round mountains.
Alpine Lakes Wilderness, Commonwealth Basin, Washington.
Pamela Hobart Carter loves how close the Cascades are to Seattle. Summers she hikes in them, winters she skis in them. She saw the Grand Canyon for the first time only five years ago. This spring will mark her fourth visit there. She has always been interested in rocks and has two geology degrees, from Indiana University and Bryn Mawr College. www.playwrightpam.wordpress.com
Banner image courtesy the poet.