I drove over 99-S, headed
into Seattle and spent too long
looking at the mountain ranges that
sandwiched us.
So many busy people,
eager to get nowhere.
How long does it take to live
in this city
before you pick a favorite
mountain range?
The Olympics drip into Puget Sound
or crumble
depending on the day and the light and how much the fog has eaten already.
The cascades grow
and stretch
and reach.
I wonder if a preference lies in our
endings. Do we drip into the sea,
slowly, becoming part of everything
and every place we have known?
Or do we scale the mountains, climb
the pass, reach the top and
see the prairies before us,
inviting us to dance?
I’ve always liked the idea
of being a
dancer.
About Bethany Bylsma
Bethany is a 2nd-year MACP student who is working to fill her 3rd passport. She enjoys driving her car, Rodger (especially towards the mountains), strong coffee, and you can count on her for good movie recommendation. She hopes to one day own and live on a small farm.
