7% Grade

7% grade ahead
says the sign.
Even so, I am unprepared.

A little too fast over the crest,
the car floats one sickening second
then descends
down all that steep blacktop.

I am horizon for a moment
Valley spread below me
laid out patchwork of
abandoned grey farmhouses
fallow fields, left over stores
backlit by a stray shot of winter sunshine

I fall from the horizon
quietly merge into the landscape
while a grey cloud
smudges the sun

Down into town, there are more churches,
less hope.

At the ski area they are making snow
as if even the weather has given up.

I stop by the farm, watch the alpacas grow hair
and nurse their young
They think they're in darkest Peru,
Allentown's a close second some days.

On the way home from the farm,
just past the ski slopes,
it begins to snow.