if places were people. no. 2

Just allow me this moment to say that I LOVE THESE PICTURES THAT I TOOK and also a warning to prep yourself for another rather sad people/places analogy/rant. #sorrynotsorry 

our lane. as in, yours and mine.

open and honest, the towering brown rabbit of a house nested against a row of ponderosas,

three of them a three-headed dog.

if you follow where the driveway points, an arm into the wilderness

you end up in the stream-bottom, hidden heart of the wood, 

wandering water trickling down from a lake 30 miles away, 30 years up the canyon.

you end up in an aspen grove with a random pond 

in the middle where we don’t ice skate in the winter

because we don’t know if it freezes and none of us are brave enough to find out.

none of us want to be eaten by water.

you have to walk down a hill to get there. 

it’s the same hill we go sledding on in winter, dangerous, 

like an angry boyfriend, but alluring in the same way. 

you have to take a 6-foot sidestep to avoid the sister of a bush with inch-long thorns.

around all this are the fatherly fields, that take away the view of the highway and when you lean

down it looks like the grass stems have been dipped in gold-making water, 

except the water is the sky and it's blue as eyes, blue as ice.

and even beyond that are the step-mother mountains, protective, leaning in to eavesdrop your secrets,

passing them on to the wild animals that snicker in the night. 

the mountains where snow shows up in september 

and doesn’t leave until june 

the very heart of them is ice and 

you know that if you started walking through them, 

if you tried to leave, you’d never reach the other side.

and if you look at where the mountains start and 

follow the pointed ears and the pointed hair 

up up up up and over 

until you reach the pointed ears and pointed hair 
on the other side with a playpen for the sun and moon and stars in between, 

where geese dip their wings in the spring and fall
clouds parade and wander and fight 

you swear that if you look hard enough the blue of the sky turns into the blue of the sea

the whispers of the wind gossips that live in the trees turn into 

lullabies of sea goddesses and gold grass turns to gold sand 

but either way you know that if you started walking through the mountains or you started flying

through the sky or the sea 

either way you know that you won’t make it out the other side.

and you know that if you did, if you did start walking or flying, and you changed your mind 

half-way, and you started walking back, 

the damage would be done. 

your stepmother would be broken and old, and your father wouldn’t be gold grass covered anymore,

he would be simply dirt and the few remnants of brown field, 

and the sister thorn bush would be gone and the boyfriend would be married to the stream 

and let’s face it:          if you leave now it will never be the same.