Tag Archives: morning walk

The Room

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

The morning walk
was soaking wet and cold,
water flooding down
the sides of hills.

I wonder if we
will end in water?
Sweeping floods from
an inlet sea
changing the course
of our earth.

Then at the top
of the hill in the forest,
maples in a glorious, gold coat
invited us in.

We opened her door
and stepped into
a fire-lit room,
warming our feet
and hands,
sitting awhile,
until the rain stopped.


Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry


by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Had I not gone the extra mile
this morning,
I would have missed
the unexpected
deep purple flowers
of the Desert Lupine—
shockingly beautiful–
with undertones of crimson

among the death-like color
of the gray rabbit brush.


Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry