Washington

Washington

Way over on the left edge of the continent
A mountainous state rises against the ocean,
Slashed, not by canyons as poets would pen.
Have you seen the pines on Olympia
In the evening’s soft glow.
Needle tops pierce the sky,
Growing straight and true.
The land of Washington calls me
Out of my east coast dwellings,
Now to live on the right side of the country.