Alberta Bound

by Michael Lee Johnson

 

I own a gate to this prairie

that ends facing the Rocky Mountains.

They call it Alberta

trail of endless blue sky

asylum of endless winters,

hermitage of indolent retracted sun.

Deep freeze drips haphazardly into spring.

Drumheller, dinosaur badlands, dried bones,

ancient hoodoos sculpt high, prairie toadstools.

Alberta highway 2 opens the gateway of endless miles.

Travel weary I stop by roadsides, ears open to whispering pines.

In harmony North to South

Gordon Lightfoot pitches out

a tone

“Alberta Bound.”

With independence in my veins,

I am long way from my home.

 

more readings by Michael Lee Johnson

more Multi-Media Content

home

 

Facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedintumblrmailby feather
Facebooktwittergoogle_pluslinkedinrssby feather

Leave a Reply

Welcome to
defenestrationism reality.

Read full projects from our
retro navigation panel, left,
or start with !What's New!

Follow Us