Montana drive & poem: "MONTANA, COMPOSER"
The day after my Yellowstone adventure ends, I drive across Montana, still inebriated with the beauty of the Rockies.
Leaving Yellowstone, driving across Montana,
emotionally overwhelming, they call it “Big Sky Country,”
The cows plod along the countryside,
bobbing their heads,
like a man walking the city street
with his headphones filled with his favorite tunes.
I believe because the cows see the music of Montana, too.
If scenery is as music,
then our greatest composers can’t compete with
this music that I see here.
There’s part of my soul out in this land –
a part of my soul that I’ve never felt nor seen,
and as I come out here,
I connect with it,
and I’m with it,
and when I leave,
I can’t take it with me,
it stays behind,
but I keep the connection.
That’s what I do.
I move around and meet up with these pieces of myself,
surprised, but not,
at where they are.
My soul is spread out throughout this continent
like a big hug around my country.
We have five senses.
Music satisfies our sense of hearing.
Lilacs are my favorite for my sense of smell.
Our sense of touch can quench our cravings
for pleasures to the heart and
pleasures to the body.
Sense of taste is the means of
appeasing our physical hunger through our stomachs.
And my eyes are hungry for beauty.
The city is a snack.
Yellowstone, Wyoming, Montana is what a grizzly bear eats before it hibernates.
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