Garrowby Hill

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Down from the high hills
	the purple road flows
		twisting and leaping
	like a gleeful girl
		in a new twirl dress.
Down down down from the wolds
	into the patchwork
		valley between fields
	fearfully tiger-
		striped, new-plowed furrows
			 rippling contours.
Down between the rows
	of sentinel trees
		alert red boles
			standing at attention
	their green canopy
		shields the roadbanks,
			shadows green hill’s feet.
The tumbling road dreams
	itself a river
		running towards the sea.
The dazed driver dreams
	she’s floating adrift
		on Huck’s wondrous raft,
	cataracting down
		into a color-
			saturated valley.
Lost in heaven-dreams,
	the blue and gold, green
		and violet landquilt
	rises up before
		her in glorious waves
			of slow turquoise haze
		only to fade fog-
			 like into bank-rolls
				of distant cloudscapes—