Baked at Baker Lake

(July 2021. Boondocked with Alison in the Mount Baker National Forest at an amazing spot. Went for a hike with Waldo down to Baker Lake right below our spot.)

Baked at Baker Lake

The sound of small waterfalls falling,
The sound of time cascading and rising,
Of an old world changing, ascending
To the destiny of a new blue gravity.

The blue dream is turquoise and true—
A temporary end to this river’s rushing clarity,
A small heaven, larger than the river
Could have ever dreamed itself.

This poem is written in turquoise ink.

The glacial crown of Mount Baker is clear from here.
It is more than true.
The forested mountainsides, the rippling ripping evergreen pinefur,
Are clear from here, and more than true.

From the roof of my blueberry diesel school bus home,
Residing not 1000 yards away,
These were clear and sweet and true,
But seen only in small windows
Above and around evergreen arms.
The lake, then, was sliced into thin turquoise ribbons,
Like cuts of heaven promised.

But here, at the outlet of the creek,
The turquoise of this heaven is immense and around us
As we face the lake face the clouds face the lake face the evergreens
Face the lake face Mount Baker face Baker Lake
Face ourselves squinting into the sunlight like squinting into joy,
Squinting into the turquoise lake under the green leaves
Under the perfectly shaded sun, squinting into the sun on the lake,
Squinting and smiling into the very face of joy.

Oh, to be two beautiful people, in one beautiful place!

I’d like to slip clothes and go bathing,
And let heaven love every lave of me.