William Stafford was asked to write poems for a project along the Methow River Valley. You can find seven poems on route 153.
A Valley Like This
Sometimes you look at an empty valley like this,
and suddenly the air is filled with snow.
That is the way the whole world happened-
there was nothing, and then...
But maybe some time you will look out and even
the mountains are gone, the world become nothing
again. What can a person do to help
bring back the world?
We have to watch it and then look at each other.
Together we hold it close and carefully
save it, like a bubble that can disappear
if we don't watch out.
Please think about this as you go on. Breathe on the world.
Hold out your hands to it. When mornings and evenings
roll along, watch how they open and close, how they
invite you to the long party that your life is.
I was weeding my garden after dinner. The neighbor's little violets are volunteering at the border, mixing in with the hyssop and the roses. Weeding is my favorite exercise. So pointless too.
The Baptist church a block away is for sale, yikes! Really expensive and available for 'mixed use'
If they put in a Whole Foods, I'm moving. I'd prefer Hari Krishnas instead. They could stand on Rainier with their orange robes and white stripes on their foreheads, banging on drums and passing out holy books. It would liven up the nieghborhood.