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| with room enough for optimism |
Between two ancient mountain ridges
runs a third on which I live,
me and a few neighbors,
we like it that way, we few,
connected by a few well-graded roads
on which we may pass more tractors than cars
with a wave and some talk on the weather,
maybe a quick word about life and death
among the clans, a few in their eighth generation
on this spine of land between the creek and the river,
a few words enough for human connection,
letting each other know without saying
we're here and we'll help if we can,
here with our long vistas, flanked by blue ridges,
by wooded slopes and mist-filled valleys,
we few here in our quiet, dark nights,
with room enough for optimism,
here with our guarded kindness,
our shared concerns,
knowing the value of rareness,
we few, may it be so.
