One Green Square

One farm among those that fill this valley
with apples, cherries, lavender,
flowers of every hue.
One square in an Afghan of many-shaded green
laid in the lap of Mt. Hood
with the river flashing through it
like a silver crochet hook.

Once, this valley was a river of fire
now hardened to stone.
Once it was ripped open by floods the size of mountains
now, bathed in the smiles of tolerant glaciers.

These flowers cover ancient scars.
These fruits grow from the bones
of old catastrophes.

I want to gather them by the bucketful.
I want to carry the seeds
to every battleground of the new century.
I want to turn each killing field
into one green square.

Plein Air, The Gorge White House, Hood River
Collection available! Knocking from Inside