In the dry heat of the summer afternoon
the hillside, viva voce,
with the living voice
of all being,
beckons you,
child of the Bitterroot.
Up and up
you follow, compliant,
led by unseen forces
that lead you off the path.
Is it the wind
or your own restless energy
that draws you higher?
Unexpectedly,
there is stillness
amid the blowing grasses and wildflowers,
where you can
simply believe.
And you sit down
to enjoy for a time the bittersweetness
of energy
tempered by weariness.
About this Poem
Meg Freer grew up in Montana and now is a teacher of piano, music history and theory in Kingston.