Place of the Hole in the Clouds
Is what they used to call part of this place
Back before colonization
And what we foolishly call civilization
When camas meadows spread inward from the shore
Uninterrupted by asphalt, all of us and more
When the aural landscape was a symphony
Of wind and wave
Instead of cars and people’s electronic chatter
Place of the Hole in the Clouds
This appellation still holds true
Now called Fairfield, its space above
Is still a pivot point for clouds
And from my not too distant hill
Shafts of blue and golden hue
Split the gray curtain of the storm
Opening a window into heaven’s face
And if I look with second sight
What wonders I will see!
But as I’m focusing my gaze
Clouds close in, my vision fades
Now it’s just an ordinary day
David Trudel © 2012
