soft orange at the horizon line
like the edge of the world
is gently burning
the city shimmers with lights
and all the little lives in it
the trees are brushstrokes ink
against the charring sky
the mountains still dark
silent sleeping strong
snow...
This item is available in full to subscribers.
We hope you have enjoyed the last 2 months of free access to our new and improved website. On December 2, 2024, our website paywall will be up. At this time, we ask you to confirm your subscription at www.themtnear.com, to continue accessing the only weekly paper in the Peak to Peak region to cover ALL the news you need! Simply click Confirm my subscription now!.
If you are a digital subscriber with an active, online-only subscription then you already have an account here. Just reset your password if you've not yet logged in to your account on this new site.
Otherwise, click here to view your options for subscribing.
Questions? Call us at 303-810-5409 or email info@themountainear.com.
Please log in to continue |
soft orange at the horizon line
like the edge of the world
is gently burning
the city shimmers with lights
and all the little lives in it
the trees are brushstrokes ink
against the charring sky
the mountains still dark
silent sleeping strong
snow capped
I hit the road at six fifteen am
and the sun rises as I drive
this morning
I don’t know the use of poetry
of myself or of anything at all
but I write after seeing the sky
the great fire of the sunrise
catching everything ablaze
the clouds turn pink then red
then fall away into blue
