Monday, October 22, 2007

The Flatlander

[a poem inspired by the Weekend Wordsmith prompt, Mountains]

The Flatlander

Someone told me the midwest made her feel

as though she were on a map,

with its towns laid out

on grids aligned with the compass points.

I grew up on that great flatness,

giving directions by north and west

and knowing that the weather 3 states west

would be ours in 24 to 36 hours

with nothing in between to slow it down

or stop it.

Where you could see for miles

on a clear day from the top of a tractor.

Where you could see forever

from the top of a big city building.

Where farms were measured in

hundreds of acres,

and where you could interchange

the minutes and miles to things

because 60-mile-an-hour driving

wasn't slowed by traffic or curvy roads.

So when I look up at a mountain

it is not with an off-hand,

taken-for-granted glance.

This flatlander looks up with delight.


Bonnie Jacobs said...

"This flatlander looks up with delight." Oh, I like that! This mountaineer read this whole piece with delight! Thanks.

sister AE said...

Thanks, Bonnie. I'm glad you like it.