The beautiful and deep Feather River Canyon in Northern California.
We drive through this canyon on the way to visit the family of my younger son.
HOW IT IS
This is how it is---
One turns away
and walks out into the evening.
There is a white horse on the prairie, or a river
that slips away among dark rocks.
One speaks, or is about to speak,
not that it matters.
What matters is this---
It is evening.
I have been away a long time.
Something is singing in the grass.
Collecting the Animals, Carnegie Mellon University Press, 2011, page 7.
I love these poems!!