This poem of mine opens the book Three Crows Yelling that I coauthored with two dear friends (and better and more productive poets than me), Bill Keener and Michael Day. The book won the National Looking Glass Award in 1999.
Out of the woods
into a bright mist filling all the air.
On the far wall of the valley
black massed forest and glowing grass-green hills.
. A ringbow, soft and shining, floated
just beyond my reach.
I heard the stuttered punt, thun of my boots
on the rocky trail, felt the scarred reluctance
of my old man’s heart, and the fancy came
that I could dive through that ring of colors
to some place of timeless ease.
. Then my eye caught iris just unfurling,
a twisted manzanita, arms upraised,
ringing with a thousand bells.
The door of airy colors faded,
flower after flower bannering my way
on down that rock-strewn trail.
. Here, I thought.
. Right here.