One
by KatSue Grant
Roseburg, OR
Stand here I, of the valley’s mountainy reaches, living
beneath these Douglas fir groves piercing the cloudbanks
seeded, nurtured when such as I knew not
beside native bushes hawthorne and lilac
sharing shade of ever-needled white pine
roots tickled by columbine fairyhorns
long-tailed ginger, the orchid fairy slipper
buttercup’s sun-petals, dreaded dead red nettles
paint brush wildfires, larkspur’s seasonal choirs
Oregon oxalises afield, tiny pimpernels’ shields
star lily posies, beach evening primrosies
Windfingers brush my throat, freely toss my hair
as I pause on the dirt road, eyes closed, head bare.
Bracing legs far apart, I raise my arms to the sky
welcoming Father Sun’s white against my eyelids,
Mother’s fresh breath on my cheeks, in my nostrils.
Looking down upon the valley and beyond to other hillsides
to brother vulture’s glide as he spares a glance for me
sister ribbon snake in a sundaze basks near
squacking sister turkey in her oak tree roost
black bumbling bees busy among blackberry blossoms
beside me.
I am one of them amongst them all.
