Rainier
My city is waking up to a clear sky.
My mountain, our stead, is proud out there.
All of us in cars and working stream in, our ears and eyes blossom with promise.
Like a concrete box, all begins to fill up with sounds, oils, and actively rotating bodies of work.
We are shaking loose a long night, and my city is bracing herself against the ticklish machinations of my smiling and industrious blood.
