Poem Hunter
(1957 / Columbus, NE)


To traverse this beautiful vista
And not to shiver in wonder...

The summits, majestic.
Their gentle slopes invite attention.
Between their prominences
A man can find safety
Buffered from the storms of that rainy day.

That subtle plain, slightly undulating,
Quaking gently as I advance.
This is a mature landscape
Soft and giving with each stride
A well with delicate margins placed just here.

And the motherland lies ahead,
Warm and inviting, I search its folds
For treasures for the tongue.
This font offers life and renewal
And a beautiful small death.

Four comely tributaries,
Each leading to five small streams
That dance at my touch.
And at the head of the land
The oracle of hope and beauty.

Such was the dark topography I explored.
This earth, this mother to life.

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