for John Heron Some ladders go up some ladders go down It’s true! Of course all ladders intrinsically go both ways both up and…
The hills above The Dalles
are striped with snow and last year’s stubble.
Hawks hunt along the rows.
The hills were shouting God,
the trees were shouting God,
the fence-posts and frozen puddles
all joined the silent chorus.
The road under my wheels was shouting God,
and I too, I was shouting God,
God, God, there is no other.
The hills are shouting God!