Rule of Thirds tells me
Never place the horizon
In the middle of the frame
But I am often as enraptured
With the sky as the land
So break that rule without remorse
Rule of Thirds tells me
Never place the horizon
In the middle of the frame
But I am often as enraptured
With the sky as the land
So break that rule without remorse
I stand upon this grandest rim
Try to imagine unthinkable time
Relent before too long such fruitless task
Instead I’ll contemplate this lazy little rhyme
Through the plateau
The Colorado pickaxe falls
Reveals sedimental sandstone rings
The eons marked on canyon walls
Rock bottom finds the hardest rock
Twelve hundred meters down below
There an ancient granite shield
No deeper can the river go
But wider still
The river’s reach
A force of will
The cliffs be breached
Upstream the river
Has not yet found
The basement rock
So burrows still into the ground
Beauty sculpted
With the softest tools
The utmost patience
Beheld by a mind
For a fleeting moment
Recorded for a moment more
While the sculptor
Chips away
Her pieces ever
Works in progress
Not a one complete
Long days
And excessive miles
On desert highways
Warp my mind
But it’s a good warp
Ripe with strange insights
As the desert strips away
All but the essential
Just a trickle
May restore
What once was lost
Love
Hope
Filling pools of possibility
This the golden hour
In advance of sun’s eclipse
I am with you
Hand in hand
Follow every laboured breath
A life of laughter, love and kindness shared
With wordless gaze and poignant smile
A tear
A sigh
A tightened grasp
Then return to fitful rest
A slumber which will last the night
But I’ll be here when you awake
In golden hour
Your hand I’ll take
Until at last
Your sun may set
It is impossible
To be objective
About an experience
I haven’t had
Swaddled in silky cloud
Upon a bed of supple grasses and pine
Earth
Cradle of my being
Some days the world seems
So very small and I feel
So vulnerable