She is my lover
Of a thousand moods.
I never tire of gazing upon
Her long lithe body,
Her head pillowed
On mountain slopes.
She the mercurial
Keeper of wind
Which come Autumn,
She will swirl just
As a vibrant young woman
Will swing a muffler
‘Round her neck.

I awoke to almost silence,
Sipped Italian roast
To chase away the barefoot dreams
Painfully afoot within my heart.
Stepping onto the deck
A tsunami of awe
Washed with wonder
My heart clean again.

The night’s stormy anger
Had torn
Every star from the sky,
Atop endless wavelets
They now adorned
Her morning robes.

I whispered her name
Wenatchee.