Today's poem is by Matt Morton

Welcome to North Fork

Hello, this is our town. We built it
at the intersection of rivers.
They make a little cross. We like that.

We like living here, walking
our retrievers twice a day,
drinking the local beer. We named

each mountain, then we named the valley
the mountains made. They're like friends,
almost. We can talk to them again

and again, as we wish, in the morning
when everyone's not looking, or
somewhere else. They've been burning

again, recently—the mountains—on account
of drought. Real estate will be affected,
probably, in unforeseen ways. But

here's the bank our fathers built years ago,
the general store with the logger mascot
out front, and the blue hotel, the first

and only hotel that ever was, as far
as we're concerned. If you want,
you can play mini-golf out back.

You can stand on your head
in the rain, and no one will mind.
We like it here, and sometimes, we like

to drive away. Sometimes we drive
to the other side of the mountain
to see a play, to buy striped licorice sticks

for the kids, or we used to, at least,
back when we were younger and did things
like that. No, we're not worried

about the fires, although the news
suggested leaving, just for a bit, just
to be on the safe side. But we trust

the firemen. We believe the mountains
when they say the winds will be shifting
soon, here. Yes. Any minute now.

Copyright © 2015 Matt Morton All rights reserved
from Barn Owl Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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