The seascape, flat in the distance, a curl at the edge,
foot steps trailing in the sand.
A graveled dirt road lined with tall old trees
horizon barely visible behind shivers of leaf and pine.
Filtered sunlight dappled the road ahead.
Dust rose from the road to meet shimmering heat
when dirt road turned to softening asphalt.
Trees stepped away from the highway.
Ocher and terra cotta stained cliffs pushed forward.
Topping a hill of browning grasses,
clumps of rounded trees made dark cutouts on the horizon.
Vehicles ahead grew ever more distant or
disappeared around a bend in the road.
Vehicles behind, mere dots in a rear view mirror,
played peekaboo around more bends in the road.
Across a river, vehicles made a twisting mountain descent.
on a parallel but curving dirt road.
Coming down from mountain meadows,
a wide valley dotted with cattle, horses and sheep
splayed out between feet of granite-gray, snow covered mountains
that rose to pierce puffed white clouds drifting low between the peaks.
The highway, a thick grey thread,
wound through passes
thick with fog or
bright with sunlight.
Down from the mountain
the grand golden prairies,
spread out ahead of me
edged in green;
white puffs of cloud on the distant horizon.
Return to the sea
or drive on through the prairies,
to hills with trees and scrub
or mountains of pine
all the way to the ocean.
So many vistas to enjoy.
So many challenges calling.
“A person only grows as much
as his horizon allows.”
~ John Powell
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