I was welcomed here-clear gold
of late summer, of opening autumn,
the dawn eagle sunning himself on the highest tree,
the mountain revealing herself unclouded, her snow
tinted apricot as she looked west,
Tolerant, in her steadfastness, of the restless sun
forever rising and setting.
Now I am given
a taste of the grey foretold by all and sundry,
a grey both heavy and chill. I’ve boasted I would not care,
I’m London-born. And I won’t. I’ll dig in,
into my days, having come here to live, not to visit.
Grey is the price
of neighboring with eagles, of knowing
a mountain’s vast presence, seen or unseen.
I love this poem. It reminds me of why I love Seattle so much– yes, it’s cold and rainy and foggy and half the time you don’t even know the Mountain is there…. but wow, every now and then it appears and you realize how close we all are here to nature and that the world is full of magic. “Grey is the price of neighboring with eagles/ Of knowing a mountain’s vast presence, Seen and unseen.”