I ride upon a river black
Over hills, across valleys,
Lush pined canopy
Leaning heavy on the shore.
Native dwellings, scattered,
Line the banks and tributaries
Feeding from the river.
My raft, astride the current
Carries my mind downstream
Where the trees don’t go
Where curious sage brush
Peers through barbed wire
At the rumbling river.
Ahead the mountains pile
Blue upon the horizon.
On we go, on we go still.
-T. Weeks
(A response to “BOOK VII Song of the Open Road”)
Life Immense 