© 2008 -- 2011 the Grandpa at The Word Mechanic. All rights reserved.

Saturday, February 28, 2009


Storms batter the windshield. He turns and points.
There. That’s the place. As lightning slivers fall
on a dropping river brimful with trout
that raise themselves to lay themselves in creels.

The car falls suddenly through walls of stone
on a town where sunlight patterns the streets.
Ghost town. Silver's what they took out of here.
The gold's up north. Then we climb, looking

for rainbows on the sky, and stop to rest
above a lake riddled by rain. The clouds
press down, obscure the ragged granite peaks.

There's a miner's shack hidden there in mist,
up that trail we'll climb tomorrow. We pitch
our tent and eat beans huddled from the cold.

Originally published in Ball State University Forum. Autumn 1985 .
© copyright 2004, 2009 the Grandpa at The Word Mechanic Blog.
All rights reserved.


  1. It's a very shimmery, shivery poem; visceral.

  2. I love this: "The car falls suddenly through walls of stone."

    Reminds me of traveling through the cascades in 2000!

  3. Like a page out of the old west...

  4. Love those words, transports me into another world ;)

  5. Its like I am right there, looking for rainbows in the sky.... I want some beans........

  6. Totally there, but for the beans...

  7. Well done, but I would have slept in the car to stay dry.

  8. Ah, nice!
    By the way, I got this really cool writing software program called Scrivener. You might want to look at it. I LOVE it! So much better than Word!!