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Though the landscape subtly changes,
the mountains are marching in place.The grasses take on the fading
yellows of the sun,
and cows with their sumptuous eyes
litter the fields as if they had grown there.
We have driven for hours
through bluing shadows,
as if the continent itself leaned west
and we had no choice but to follow the old ruts-
the wagons and horses, the iron snort
of a locomotive. We are the pioneers
of our own histories, drawn
to the horizon as if it waited just for us
the way the young are drawn
to the future, the old to the past.
~ Linda Pastan ~
from Traveling Light © Norton, 2011
the wagons and horses, the iron snort
of a locomotive. We are the pioneers
of our own histories, drawn
to the horizon as if it waited just for us
the way the young are drawn
to the future, the old to the past.
~ Linda Pastan ~
from Traveling Light © Norton, 2011
Some wonderful imagery here - love the mountains 'marching in place' and the 'sumptuous eyes' of the cows.
ReplyDeleteI have just discovered Linda Pastan. She's a very visual writer.
DeleteThis poem speaks to me as I have been in the American West, seeing those mountains marching in place and the grasses turned yellow by the sun and of course the cows. The poem is all about adventure to me.
ReplyDeleteIsn't it wonderful to find a poem that perfectly matches an experience? Its speaks to me of our own journey through life, which may - or may not - feel like an adventure!
Delete"... We are the pioneers
of our own histories, drawn
to the horizon as if it waited just for us
the way the young are drawn
to the future, the old to the past."
What exquisite writing and the photograph matches it perfectly.
ReplyDeleteThank you very much!
Delete