Driving to Rock Springs on a Sunday morning:
Sun is still behind the hill as I leave Lander
Rising above the rim it catches the red
of a sweater worn by a woman going out to feed her horse
Dry Lake is sparkling with water and bright white of pelicans
Bald eagle surrounded by ravens feast on the night's road kill
They fly up disturbed by my passing car.
The new road by the mine leaps up to the horizon
that leads to the South Pass and the Continental Divide
Not so high here - my great grandmother and her family
traveled the Oregon trail on their way to better days
I wonder where my car crosses her path
Now down towards Farson where one used to be able to get huge ice cream cones
but no longer - the ancient stone building empty.
Turning towards Eden I pass the church where I will soon hold
communion for a Biblical quorum of 2 or 3 gathered
But for now I race past on my way to Rock Springs
where we sing out bravely acapella as the 3 organists
are traveling on a different journey this morning
The wide open spaces beckon me to return
In the shadows of the Wind River Range.