Multnomah Falls

Out over yonder, by great river shores, before Benson Bridge was even erected, I took the form of a coyote brother.  When the world was still young, in the age where man and animal spoke the same tongue, I traversed the crests and big shining mountains of vast horizons.  The landscape glowed emerald, luminous and effervescent.  Ephemeral mists coated moss and lichen covered branches outstretched like grasping fingertips into the vast firmament of clouds.  Waterfalls rushed down on me, baptizing me, blessing me in cold rivulets of crystal clear mountain streams.  This is where I discover the sacred, this is where I reconnect.  Sometimes, when it's all too much, when I feel it all slipping away, I run through the evergreen and pine, inhaling the lush fragrant scent of this beautiful Northwest, the earth so sadly forgotten, the stars glittering like my beating heart, as I dream of rainforest canopies and slippery rocks, my love I followed you in the fog, only to get lost amidst the closed highways, on the outskirts of this mysterious shrouded city of Portland.