In Memory of Ken Kesey
Walking along the spongey, winding trails
under the dripping moss-draped trees
of Mt. Pisgah –
It felt like a Ken Kesey-kind-of-Oregon-day.
Some sun –
a parade of playful clouds
jigsaw puzzle pieces of blue sky
and a rainbow so close
you could taste
its sherbet colored flavors.
I leaned my head back
for a different view of the treetops
and felt gentle raindrops
bouncing off my half-shut eyelids.
Damp and green
and mostly quiet.
The faint background music
of chainsaws.
1/2/02
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(c) M.L. Nemir, 2002