Tyson West
Rising to the East
(Germanic Sonnet)
Age pushes me now from dry azure skies
and comfort of my lukewarm hermitage
to granite paths along a dark treed ridge
and snow fed forests where the Selkirks rise.
My soul had hoped this wind washed steppe would bridge
man's world and nature to sweet dreams of god.
No matter what seeds I set in this sod
I've grown fat not wise in this land of midge
and grouse. Perhaps age leaves my soul unawed
by death's soft tapping on my cottage door
I yet feel like Ulysses still there's more
quests, trials, and feats ahead. Nor is it odd
old minds can open and old legs ignore
their pain as I hunt fresh trails to explore.
Bio
Tyson West has published speculative fiction and poetry in free verse, form verse and haiku distilled from his mystical relationship with noxious weeds and magpies in Eastern Washington. He has no plans to quit his day job in real estate.