THE BALLAD OF HOPE

On the west side of the mountain where the rhododendrons grow
I found my love a trillium with roots deep in the snow.
On the east side of the mountain where the dandelion spreads so wide
I brought my love a pony with a chestnut-spotted hide.
The pretty pine groves in spring with ragged-robin thick
stood tall and grave and waved us past on highway 66.

On the west side of the mountain where the hemlocks hung so  dark
We dressed in rhododendron leaves and hats of willow bark.
On the east side of the mountain where the dust is alkali
We threw away our leafy garb and wandered clad in sky.
antelopes,ruddy bunnies and daffodil chicks
stood watching amidst the meadows along highway 66.

But summer turns and fire burns the west and east alike
will dry to brown and hunker down, the flowers sere and dead;
And sage and rhododendron know the fear of lightning-strike
as you and I will watch the sky for smoke and thunderheads.
It’s not a kindly season that brings flames all racing quick
through wood and grass and underbrush on highway 66.

So walk with me a little further in the green of spring
and watch the west side shake the snow and start its blossoming
and watch the east side greet the sun, the frozen earth reborn
while I and you pass lightly through the wild roses’ thorns.
When summer drought descends on us, we’ll leave the drying ricks
and head out towards the foggy coast on highway 66.

-basu n trash

inspired by and dedicated to shubh clark....

for insomnia