The Valley by Eric Kay

1–2 minutes

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Dedicated to the Little Snake River Valley, Wyoming

Snow gives way to run-off,

The brown dies, fertilizing the green.

Syrinx of seraphim sing as

Diesel cuts the frost, and the soil.

Gold in green, like aged tapestry,

Quaking in the sunny breeze.

Sounding like meat on the grill-

Starting red, ending brown.

Bales spread like the markers of Arlington

Between the fences, row on row.

The resting places of another season.

Yes, even the sun begins to tire.

The set table landscape, with the linen on top.

The sun moves rainbow glitter to build ivory powder ramps

From frigid fields of sleep.

Is this the end of life or simply its conception?

Eric Kay grew up in Cincinnati, Ohio, but moved west after falling in love with clean air and mountains. Now retired, Eric finds the time to write five days a week, putting to good use the skills he taught in his 31 year teaching career.

One response to “The Valley by Eric Kay”

  1. Nice one, Eric! Some lovely and unique images and metaphors.

    Like

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