Ode to The Cascade Mountains of Oregon

the rain blowing through the trees rocks them back and forth taking the force of the wind but somehow softy swaying brushing each other a gentle sound even in the wild storm rain falling adding a pater to the noises around me the scent of the firs wet moss mud rotting leaves fog cold moist air flowing into my jacket freezing me to the bone I don't even notice just see my dad in a yellow slicker with a zipper not working must be colder than me and wet he doesn't notice either as it pours the rain upon our heads we are baptized by god himself no church can beat this we wander along the logging road and pause and look at the glorious view echoes of mountains peaking through the grey fog and rain the trees etched against the clouded skyline creating pointed spires in rows down the mountain side of a deep rich green that I have known my whole life and the perfect essence of fall the small leaves bright red and orange and yellow cutting the grey and green in sweeping paths down the steep mountains

JAS 2013