Vol 11, Num 15 :: 2012.07.20 — 2012.08.02
Tahoma, they call you, the sacred mountain
that sits like an elder giant’s white-haired head.
Shouldering aside buildings and clouds
and slowing the traffic along I-5,
because no one, even modern
and white as the snow on your crown,
can resist a stare and an incantation
of awe.
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