Puppets can’t break their fast through their painted mouths Rocks can be said to be fasting forever Mountain “fastnesses” are …
The hills above The Dalles
are striped with snow and last year’s stubble.
Hawks hunt along the rows.
The hills were shouting God,
the trees were shouting God,
the fence-posts and frozen puddles
all joined the silent chorus.
The road under my wheels was shouting God,
and I too, I was shouting God,
God, God, there is no other.
The hills are shouting God!