AT PARADISE MEADOWS

AT PARADISE MEADOWS

At the foot of Mt. Rainier

Chief Seattle sat pondering the face of the god. 

Did he know of what was to come? 

On the slopes of the mountain 

I bathe my feet in hot pools 

and wander in fields full of flowers. 

Larkspur, lupine and columbine.

These meadows were made by beavers 

felling alders to engineer the snowmelt into dams, 

this place where history seeps into my pores.

Tehama, like a breath 

the name of the mountain.

Snatches my mind away.

Circled in fog floating in a blue sky.

Underneath the mantle, the steady drip of rain 

shrouds the face of Tehema.

Across the sound, Chief Seattle, 

with his two wives following behind, 

was buried in his dugout canoe, 

in full view of the mountain.

Among the steaming pools and snowmelt 

I pick flowers on the slopes of paradise

wondering why it has to be so hard. 

The upheaval, and the price of beaver pelts,

smallpox decimating entire villages.

All that's left is the name of the mountain —

Like a breath, the name floats on the air—

Tehema, Rainier.

Tehema.

7/1981

 Port Townsend, Washington

added 10/16

minor revision/line breaks