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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4617 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention The Lower Left Corner Traveled Gary Blankenship Along the crooked roads of the river’s shore, tide laps the shoulder, hungry to roam the fields. In stands of stunted fir attired in smoky leaf lichen, rough-legged hawks wait for the water to recede. Crooked roads twist and turn along the Columbia though towns left high and dry by depleted salmon runs, exhausted timber cuts, abandoned farms, too few jobs for gift shops, junque stores and tourists to keep alive. Around stump and hillock, over creeks and marsh, the crooked roads wind north around Willipa Bay. On this pale day, heron, elk and osprey melt away, the long journey home miles of uninteresting road. Until one last river forded, the last inlet sighted to remind me the warm, simple joy of home runs deep. |
