Riding

We came right over a ridge,
saw the sky gray-spread,
rippled pink for mountains
walking all in a crowd
along the west valley,
and I said,
                      Look, isn't that
pretty?
             quietly, for I had
no need to emphasize, no
desire to insist on it. We
have agreed. There have been
those times we did, like
at little stores with soft
drinks and crackers we agreed
to stop at: our bodies agreed
to stop together. We had to
talk about it—nothing
mystical like looking deep
into each other's eyes
and just knowing—but we talked
just a little bit, like
                               Want
to stop? Want something
to eat? How about a coke?
just little talk like that
because we did agree pretty
much.
          I can feel it now, sliding
into easy lines, sure in advance
of these words: the lines
get a little slacker, the shaping
and twisting less important
than just utterance.
                                        Mountains walk
this valley.
                          See there?

Copyright © 2005 Robert W. Hill All rights reserved
from Five Points
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission