October

I wrote this poem last October, my first fall in Oregon.  Vermont has beautiful autumns, pastoral and graceful with brilliant displays of red and orange. Here fall is gold set against dark evergreen. The constant rain makes the wilderness glisten. The poem was inspired by the 10-mile drive from town to my home along Highway 47. Don’t be fooled by the “highway”. In this neck of the woods a highway is a single lane winding road. My highway meanders along the Nehalem River in the Coastal Range of Northwest Oregon and it’s one of many roads here that takes my breath away.

October

If I drive off the road
Know that I was distracted by the wilderness
Gazing for a moment at gilded leaves
Arched against jagged evergreen
Vine maple blazing in random rays of sun
The woods wet, black branches of the forest bending
Silhouetted by canopies of countless green
Perhaps I beheld a quilted river of fallen crimson and vermillion
Winding along the roadside
Or I gazed into the weave and texture of leaves
Layers interlaced, sharp and dense, against the sky
I glimpse fields of weed, browning blade and drying seed
Blending into a tapestry of quiet color before me
If I soar off the road of my life
And fail to rise
Know that my eyes brimmed with beauty.