Mountains Offer a Sense of Peace
Wherever I am, or will be, it’ll read New England Time within me. Now, I can’t help that iambic & rhyme within the prose, but at least I didn’t do it on purpose. Just like this 11:22 in a 9:22 Time Zone. Woke to snow-capped Rockies out the window surrounding us with adversarial beauty, thinking of early settlers migration crawling westward. Now, their descendants & interlopers simply crawl all over each other over highways via SUVs & Mercedes. Far cry from the guy I had dinner with last night, whose great-great-great-grandmother the family believes came from the Taos Pueblo, & who as early as age six collected Anasazi pottery, referring to later versions as simply black on white. He & I are into tactics, more than plans, & may very well make a foray three hours from here, next Time I’m here, in order to explore regions of the Arkansas River (which begins here in the Rockies near Leadville) he knows like the back of his hand. Told him I needed a guide sometimes for what I really want to see. (Remnants of a blind poet?) It’s past rush hour now outside Denver, barely a lull in the traffic. But in the distance the mountains offer a sense of Peace. Continental Divide, indeed.