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C r a f t i n
K o o t e n a y
Richard Bergen
Subsequent to generations of wanderers and water-travelers, observant and obstinate, I have happened across a threshold– a distinctive beauty that coalesces. The lake’s arms reach sparingly to the penetrable beach-like grasslands flooded by the fingers of waters, as if to fit an earthen glove. The field appears not suddenly, but is summoned even before it planes on the plains. The mountain, though mighty and tall, stoops to point to what lies at its feet and beneath – just as in concurrence it calls overhead with confidence, to the heavenly bodies, which in equal height and equal motion, do not seek pre-eminence or an elevated platform, only to light generously a darkening twilight. And the companions of starlight come winsomely to whisper “goodbye; for now...”