The soul is a flowering peach tree blooming on a bright green hill The scale of a dragon fallen into the Princess’ goblet turn…
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!