TRAMRIDE
This thin thin wire
Sways in generous bulging arcs
From breeze to breeze
Like a child's jumprope
Or the rippling undulations
Of a lustrous serpent
Moving through thick waters.
We are suspended under
This snakerope
And we are pulled along
By it. There is no escape:
The mountain floor beneath us
Is frighteningly distant.
The trees are miniature layered fans
And its boulders a pebbled mosaic.
A ridge rises before us.
Our eyes tells us there is no
Way over it, and yet
The cable passes through a crevice.
This, then, is faith:
We know we must follow where the cable has
Gone, and let our hearts
Finish the ride,
Finish the ride.
(c) Latayne C. Scott
