Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
| Anaconda The snake left its cold cave, (the glaciers had melted) and wound its way through the canyon to rest. It woke; fresh meadows waved; it cavorted for centuries, searched for a companion to share its nest. But men ... threw spears at it. It slid back to its den and hid in its copper lined depths and slept. Legend faded to myth till new men sought treasures, brought loud machines to claim diamonds and rust. Belching copper innards, the snake tried to defend, but men abused, refused to show respect. They built fortunes and banks, raised up a great chimney, smelted ore, let leavings, poisoned the soil. The snake, hot and thirsty, wallowed in the river, sickened among stunted willows; slow death. Visit Anaconda, named for legends and myths; once a town built on lust and greed: now dust. Linked cinquains, 40 lines. A creative 'tale' about Anaconda, Montana (dying but not dead yet). For
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