29 March 2014

Waiting for Spring Runoff, Missoula, Montana

"Our eyes rake autumn leaves like ore, panning horizons 

before they fade. We hike flat miles toward sundown,
alchemy of oaks, the fleeting shimmer of gold.
Nothing glitters at night but stars..."

- From "Pronghorns Show Us the Way" by Walt McDonald

Read the full poem - plus some other gems - here.

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