Driving the Eastern Sierra–dVerse Monday Quadrille

 

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Driving the Eastern Sierra

snow-capped Sierras to the West
(my soul soars)
rising above volcanic outcrops
(I sing of earth)
a hawk circles above, searching for prey
(heart skips a beat)
mist lingers in the valley
(I rise above it)
litter on the highway
(spirit plummets, weeps aloud)

Jumping in late for Monday Quadrille at dVerse Poets where we write a poem of exactly 44 words, this week using the word “skip.” Just made this glorious drive. Fortunately, there was not a lot of litter, but when there was…

I-395 South in Winter

Photo Credit: darkroastedblend.com

Contrails etched in the newborn sky

burst into flames at dawn.

 

Diamond-studded acres of frozen snow

bristle at sun’s caress.

Photo: listofimages.com

We descend the mountain road

into a bowl of milky fog,

 

creep forward through thick mist

then emerge beneath its weighty layer.

Photo: Alex Boywer
Mono Lake Fog

There lies Mono Lake, still and peaceful

as light breaks through in the East

 

illuminating her surface into

a pool of liquid silver.

 

A gilded strip on the horizon beckons.

We rise again through the miasma,

 

We arise to crisp blue that shimmers,

shivers, surrenders its secrets.

 

In the desert, Joshua trees, tipped

in gold leaf, bow at our passage.

Photo: tripadviser

Contrails etched in evening skies

burst into flames at sunset.

Photo credit: joabess.com

We’re arrived in the desert after a two-day drive. This stunning trip never ceases to amaze me but this winter topped them all. I wanted to pull over and take photos every few miles but because of the conditions, it took longer than usual. Wish I could find the words to describe the PEACE and beauty that this dip into nature brought to me…and Peace in the theme Mary has invited us to consider over at dVerse Poetics!

Driving North on I-395 in Early Morning

Image via Wikipedia

Driving North on I-395 in Early Morning

Behind me, to the East,
(as I crest a summit)
sun opens his eyes,
stretches, reaches out,
grazes snow-graced peaks
of Mt. Whitney,
gilds her breasts in bronze.

Before me, in the valley,
fog spills into a bowl of milk.
I inch forward,
into a cloud of unknowing.

Earth shimmers behind
her gauzy silence,
till once again
she rips her veil
and wraps me in light.
Going home.

Joined to Gooseberry Garden where we’re invited to write about something for which we are grateful and to dVerse Poets’ Pub Open Link Night where you can write about whatever you want. For those of us who celebrate Thanksgiving, here’s a chance to gorge on poetry and friendship before the big day. Maybe then we won’t be so tempted to over-indulge when the day arrives. Happy Thanksgiving all, wherever you are. I am grateful you are a part of my life.

I-395 Mojave to Reno–Poetry Potluck

Image by °Florian via Flickr

Submitted to Poetry Potluck: http://jinglepoetry.blogspot.com/ where the theme for this week is Traveling, Trips, Vacations. This poem was written last year on our return trip to Reno in May.

I-395 Mojave to Reno

Opening lines of poems
I would write
if I didn’t have to drive:

The Artist slopped his paint
across the Mojave Desert…

Purple and yellow, orange and blue,
complementary palettes…

A mound of red and black lava:
a dinosaur slipping into extinction…

Owen’s lake in cool colors:
blue on blue, silver white…

The difference between stark and extravagant =
January + 4 months – winter…

Snow presides on Mount Whitney
while Lone Pine lounges in its shadows…

To be continued
or completed.