Let me take you to a place in the Mosier Hills
It’s a bend on State Road
Pass through a curtain of Poplar trees
Gnarled cherries reach out to their grapevine cousins
The young, tangled plants stare strongly back
They are trying to impress their older relatives
The fruits born are different and the same
Sweet, tart, red, tender
Natural nods to farmers of the past
All are used, nothing forgotten
Let me take you to a place in the Mosier Hills
I’m quite certain you’ll be greeted
By cows and calves,
Sunlight and grass
All are used, nothing forgotten
A convergence of pastoral expression.
YOU Are HERE 