The Columbia River
Sculptured by the earth
polished by the sun,
it slithers, chugs and churns
its way to the ocean.
Teased by the wind
it shudders.
Brushed by the sun
it blushes sapphire and silica –
turquoise and jade, and
by the clouds, pewter.
This familiar presence,
whose coinage flows
through our fingers,
is only borrowed
from strange eons before
and strange eons to come.
A giant spirit
it speaks to the planets
with a pounding heart,
communes with stars
in the quiet of eternity,
and to anyone who listens
conveys, “I am.”
July 14, 2000
Vicki Westberg
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