Highway 84

 

Careening down Highway 84
 in sweet parabolic arcs
  through the kaleidescope of a midsummer’s day
The air is ripe with woodsmoke, horse and eucalyptus
  while the roar of wind and a chattering freewheel
    fills my ears.
This morning, to say “I am alive”
  is to say “Life is beautiful”

 
(Sep 2004)

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