Rick Chastain

Image Credit — Sonja Wilkinson

That only the mountains are true

only the stones are without time

Only the sky is true

far blue and far white

and far stars at night

hear our stories, our stories, our stories

Only the river is ever true

taking us where

and where we do not

want to…

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In the year of fire and fear

when even the air has stopped breathing

I have come to see the woods again

to kneel between the waters, joined

where the main creek and her sister join

here there is dark spruce, tangled willow, darting minnow,

and refuge

again to ask

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Image Credit, Fran Woods

We bought the old place
for it’s reach to the woods
and it’s true…

one step from the door
and on to the trail that winds through the waiting aspen

is to enter the place
where the boundary awaits
where the rusted sign says
“please latch the gate” …
and hear the land speak
of…

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If all of the metal

were melted down

in this foothills town

all the rails

with their whispers

of longed-for arrivals

all the nails

holding our homes straight upright

all the girder and truss

with their hard love for safety

all our fence, all our fears

standing sentry at night.

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