Cascade Loop
The sky looks high, you said as our car circled
the bloodshot dawn smoking on the mountains.
We didn’t stop until we reached the iced coffee
at a female-run gas station in a valley of apples.
In Leavenworth my blackened fingers tattooed
my sausage roll with the local Echo newspaper.
The wildfires were gone but the scent lingered
in the front-page weddings and fire safety tips.
After lunch we waded into a kind lady’s candle
shop and sampled her pretzels and horseradish.
At sundown we road home to our Seattle ground-
floor apartment on a nutrient-rich, ivy-haired hill
where we would wake to red-lipped tulips
kissing in the rain made in the mountains.
About the Author: Garth Pavell is a Best of the Net 2026 nominee. His poetry can be found in the recent or upcoming issues of Broadkill Review, Door Is A Jar Magazine, Epiphany, Glint Literary Journal, MacQueen’s Quinterly, Misfit Magazine, Peatsmoke Journal, Trampoline, and VOLT.
Image Credit: Carol M. Highsmith “High in the Cascades, Washington” Public domain image courtesy of The Library of Congress
As It Ought To Be 