Horse Heaven Hills

The hills roll for miles
There's black gold in the earth
from the bones of thunderfoots
mined by farmers into amber grain
Ghosts of the Umatillas
Walla Walla, Yakima and Cayuse
haunt above
They ride bareback
in the green stalks of wheat
that bend and let them pass
as the spirited wind bares witness

An abandoned farmhouse
has given in
Tilts to one side and listens
but doesn't hear approaching footsteps
Only the faded rumble of a tractor
and squawks of mocking crows
in an occasional locust tree,
bark cracked and rough from draught
Empty-hearted
soon they will fall to lonliness,
more dinosaurs
lost in buried history underground

In the summer
the road turns to tar melt
imprinted with tire tracks,
scattered grain from the combines
and the sweat of linemen running cable
The heat rises steamed from the asphalt
and the white line convalutes
into an impassioned dance in the distance
partnered with telephone poles
that appear to bend at the waist
in a courtseyed bow

Grasshoppers fat off the land
jump at courtship and come down hard
rubbing their hind legs in a mating call
Whipperwhils ask why--whywhywhy
hardly expecting an answer
The drone of a single-engine plane
interrupts their pensive song
Clouds stroll across turquoise sky
They are lazy harbingers of the sun
but as in a storm-tossed sea
when comes the rain they smoke,
crash lightning and roll thunder

Some nights the dark is thick mud
suffocating you for lack of light
except the brights of headlamps
from passing cars
and  a few houselights too far for safety
Your eyes play tricks on you,
create forms in the quiet
that may or may not be real
The stars are your only comfort
But a full moon spreads magic,
a nurturing blanket on the fields
and crickets chant in unison to her hallowed light

(c) Linda Gayton 2006