April 7: Twenty-Six Miles From Here

 Twenty-Six Miles From Here

                    by Tom King

If I walk down the road a ways
To the edge of the Puyallup Valley
Overlooking the river winding upward
To the foothills of Mount Ranier,
And above it all, rises the snow-capped
Cinder cone, the remnant of an ancient
Spate of unspeakable geologic violence.
The ash pile left to remind us to be respectful.

It's twenty-six miles from my front door
Squatting there on the horizon grim and blue.
Pushing the clouds that roll in off the Pacific
Spiraling upward like a big fluffy chimney.
The big guy is overdue I'm told
For another noisy demonstration
Of the mountain's ability to wreak violence,
On a lot of puny mammals that get too close.

Puny mammals like me.
  Living just 26 miles away.

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