I had to drive to Montour Falls
From Ithaca, not my everyday
Nor unfamiliar, and what I
Noticed on a southwest drive
Was that there was half moon glowing grey
In a light blue darkening sky
Wisps, cirrus, poofs of palest pink
Top dressing not-vibrant autumn
Woodlands, almost more sage and grey, but
Beautiful.
Cresting the top of some long hill
Maybe around Alpine, a plains opened,
The sky exploded, but low,
Wrapping horizon, streaks
Of blood red, I said to myself
Sangre de Cristo,
And then gold blazed before gone
And then flash of memory
Chasing sunsets,
With my brother
One long ago cold January,
From Fort Robinson into far
Wyoming, chasing sunsets,
And then down through Boulder county.
So I wondered why that road of
Many colors made just so much sense
To me, driving home tonight, and it was
About our possibility, chasing
Our vast and opening spaces.
I hope this is where
We are waiting.
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