River Road




River Road
 
 

Dusk is falling.

I drive with care,

deer are headed for water.

 

The blue of the hour mutes color with shadow.

The foothills are sere – sun that singed grasses

left the wildest flowers to glow orange and gold.

 

Today, two eagles fly between the canyon walls,

wing beats slow. Do they, too, savor

these translucent hours - bordered by

fields and hills and water?

 

Soon the moon will rise,

bathing the hills with silver,

laying a path across the river for night creatures to follow.

 

Home lies at the end of this road,

but I’ve been home from the very first mile.
 
 
 
Judith Kelly Quaempts

 
Judith Kelly Quaempts lives and writes in rural eastern Oregon. Her short stories and poetry appear online and in print, most recently in Windfall, The Crafty Poet II: A Portable Workshop, and Women's Voices, an anthology published by These Fragile Lilacs Press.

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