|Zion National Park|
One vacation, Gay and Stu, my sister and BIL, and Barry and I flew out to Montana and rented an apartment in a little town near one of the gates to Yellowstone National Park. For a week we visited the park every day and had the best time ever. The bison moving like a wave across the prairie grass will be forever emblazoned into my mind. The majestic male Elk fighting in the Galatin River, deciding who would be leader of the herd, plays over and over in my mind. It became a poem, Scene from Yellowstone's Valiant Wild, that has been published a few times.
We had time to drive through the Great Tetons but wish we had been able to stop and enjoy that beautiful area. It was raining and cold, not a good day for outside. We did make this photo in front of the lake with snow covered mountains behind us. Looks cold, doesn't it?
|Stu is taking this picture of Barry, me and Gay|
You and Me, Elsie and Old Unfaithful
at Yellowstone National Park
Our hands wrapped around hot chocolate cups,
we shared a muffin with a resident ground squirrel.
He ran under tables and chairs in the room where a tree
grew up through the floor as we waited
for the famous geyser to erupt on schedule.
Overcast and cold, the day not meant for
sight-seeing, but we settled in with front row seats
before a giant picture-window. We didn't know the
mature lady with years of laugh lines on her face,
until Elsie took the chair beside us.
For 90 minutes she spilled out her life in cupfuls.
Chicago-born, life-long teacher, retired
to an island in Puget Sound near her only daughter.
I saw this thing this morning and it didn't show me much.
Hope it's better this time. She pulled her sweater close.
What did she expect? Predictable doesn't mean perfect.
I smiled, remembering pictures of the scalding
water shooting skyward, high into blue Montana sky.
Remembering my anticipation of the day when
you and I would be here to see this spectacle in person.
Dusk fell, rain slanted against the pane.
Straining my eyes, I spied the first short bursts
forced from the bowels of the earth. There was
no apex against cerulean sky. The geyser disappeared,
a ghost into the mist, an apparition of my imagination.
The long awaited marvel, like a candle flickered out,
left me empty as the chocolate cups, no sweetness
for the chipmunk, still hunting for some morsel.
Elsie gathered up her coat and hat, ambled off stating
Still doesn't show me much.
---Glenda Council Beall