Time and water
Carved this canyon
From solid rock
Though patience
And softness
Cannot resolve
Every problem
The peace flowing
From their practice
Bears a reward
Of its own
As I watch
The sun set
Upon the stone
The river cut
Though patience
And softness
Cannot resolve
Every problem
The peace flowing
From their practice
Bears a reward
Of its own
As I watch
The sun set
Upon the stone
The river cut
Is no different
Than any other day
Love
But there are times
Places
To not mind being
Lost
The walls seemed sculpted
Textured
With saturated tones of
Warmth
And so I walked
Aimless
Lost in the beauty of the
Walls
Until suddenly I was
Outside
Safe, yet wanting to go
Back
Sometimes it is
OK
To lose my
Self
To understand this
Is to master life
To master life
One must master death
Of space and time
Of politics and social norms
Of family and friends
The things that stay
But never stay the same
The ephemeral things
Lost and soon forgotten
Nothing ever stays
But change
Which is often the point
Of these things we do to landscapes
Change the landscape
Change each other
Change ourselves
An oppressive weight
Waiting to fall
My mood becomes dark as the sky
Until I realize the low grey cover
Provides an atmospheric parasol
A gift to soften harsh desert sun
Diminish the heat of afternoon
An invitation to step out of the car
I breathe deeply in sage-scented air
While my mood becomes effervescent
As sage drifting in the desert breeze
I have to admit
To some minor or major
Moments of fascination
Or delight
Or longing
Emotion moving my core
With some rekindled
Long-forgotten moment
Or chapter
In a life becoming much too long
To hold all the memories
Within my mind alone
A birthday card
A letter written but never sent
Elementary report cards
And aptitude test results
A story I’d written
With misshapen letters
And a child’s innocence
A Dragnet drama
Starring a detective snake
Age eight
The road was freshly paved
Though heavily pebbled
So the car hummed
As it shimmied in the heavy winds
Here was I
A projectile crossing open country
Which to my being is as good
As being wrapped in a blanket
By a fire on a snowy winter’s eve
Road trips are comfort food for my soul