At the Inn


The wood seems to love the grain it runs,
these 2 x 12 planks that floor the porch
of Paradise. Sun and rafter shadow
under the unmarked sky, late summer blue,
that holds its cloudless opening, devoted,
to the sun on white-ice, rock and snow
of Mount Rainier—say some, it’s Mount Tahoma
or plainly, God, to native reds who knew.

Say some of us, “We, too”: late afternoon,
presiding power holds all—a darting squirrel,
bird the size of a child’s closed palm,
ranging out to towns and states of humans
everywhere . . . their harmony upon
that axis turns. Summit coming down
in crash of waters’ nourishment of vasts,
we turn inside at last—Tahoma’s heart.


  Ronald Jorgensen
7 September 2005-6 September 2006
© Ronald Jorgensen

Note: The inn referred to in the title is named, literally, Paradise
Inn, and is popularly referred to by its guests as Paradise. On the
mountain itself, it sits at an elevation of about 5,400 feet.