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Yosemite



The valley called and I answered. I held to the curve and wind, letting my body mold to the track and slide. Gripping each incline as if to see if the car would save itself or if it would look to me for control - pleading!

Up and Up I climbed past tin roofs and cabins bare. Up where life is harsh and cold slaps sense into your brain. Through rocks and canyon that humble by the ancient presence of each granite vain. Through the tunnel hewn from black rock that for all of its might cannot hold back the smashing of water pebbles on the glass.

Then from black of twilight to splash of orange and yellow on pinnacle towers of peninsulas to the sky. The captain stands proud and leaves me low. The dome of rock sheared in two with a white cap of winter’s embrace.

Buy me an espresso

Recommend0 Simily SnapsPublished in All Stories, Poetry

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