After the last bridge, the gravel eroded
And the road promised a dead end soon.
A little dust hung in the air from the pick-up
That had grumbled up and roared back down.
On one side of the road, wildflowers in sun,
On the other, mosses and ferns in shadows.
Gaps in a thin line of spruce on the crest
Of a narrow ridge showed a peak with snow.
Birds made themselves heard in the trees
Despite the re-echoing wind and water. A doe
Wandered through with two fawn daughters.
The air was resin sweet where the hermit
Hunched and wondered how much longer.
The angle of the light kept shifting lower.
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