Rushing  to  Meet  the  River

Don Hynes  February 24, 2019

Dawn comes to the valley,

houses lit with early risers,

a garbage truck roaring to a stop.

Headlights carve the remaining dark,

white edged clouds outline the sky.

Black winged birds fly east

awake to the morning call.

Out beyond the mountains

sun breaks the horizon,

warming the high desert frost

and a ripple of peaks to the great divide.

Wolf, coyote and a wave of creatures

stir and find their legs, begin the hunt.

Sturgeon circle beneath the dams,

salmon wait past the break

for a flush of cold water on the new tide;

even the steel towers seem inviting

as they reflect new light.

Press your ear to the ground,

you’ll hear the earth thrumming

with the bass of deep stone

and something like joy

flowing through her veins

as she rushes to meet

the river of the morning.

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