This little peal of green
Winding through the desert red
Cut its path through rising rock
Stone once silt when waterborne
Now to the sea writhes its decay
Perhaps again to stratify
This little peal of green
Winding through the desert red
Cut its path through rising rock
Stone once silt when waterborne
Now to the sea writhes its decay
Perhaps again to stratify
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
Hard rock cradle of the canyon
Fluffy down comforter in the sky
Below, a river flows
Brings all I see and need to life
The rippled land
In golden light
Where shadows fall
Before the night
Such lush relief
Did storms reveal
Time’s watercourse
Shapes Earth’s appeal
A seductive rock
On ocean’s edge
Half the day
Surrounded by the tide
Attracting thousands
Nature’s iconic monument
To a monumental coastline
In time with the waves’ ungentle caress
They saunter near, then scramble back
This flightless flock of sandpipers
Photographs and selfies
Arm-in-arm and hand-in-hand
A deep breath in, a longer one out
The calm that comes on any shore
Where the surf rumbles and sighs
Some may say it’s the rock
But the rock is a draw as any other draw
A pier, a lighthouse, beach chairs and gazebos
It is the sea which helps us remember ourselves
Sometimes
Life moves at a pace
I cannot keep
Or rather
Life moves
I simply do not
And in my disastrous stillness
The dust storm rolls in
Without hesitation
To Roll
Over
Me
Move or don’t move
Retreat or don’t retreat
Seek cover or…
Let
The dust
Take me
I like to imagine
Mother Nature kicking back
In her Adirondack
Enjoying the majestic dance
Of her creation
Choreographed with geological rhythm
The chuckles she must chortle
As all her little creatures
Scurry about the stage
Like so many Keystone Kops
In a silent era comedy
None more ridiculous
Than we
The monuments we erect
To assure ourselves
Of our own greatness
Barely breach
The lowest cloud
Of nature’s modest creation
While the proof
Of our existence
Is a contrail adrift in time
Dissipating in the empty sky
Of infinite space
On the cold days
I’m reminded
That most days
Life is a struggle
A struggle
To stay warm
And keep fed
To love
And be loved
A beautiful struggle
I squint into the sun
And existence becomes
A blackened vignette
With a sparkling path
Leading directly
To a burst of light
In a cloud-strewn sky
A vision I recognize
From those times of connection
When I was one with everything
And the knowledge of all existence
Seemed not only plausible
But within my grasp
Heady times
And I wonder
Was I mad then to believe
The epiphany was real
Or mad now to have let it slip
From experience
To memory
Now a personal myth