Barely a trickle
Below, broken evidence
Here sometimes a fall
Tag: United States of America
The Changing Sky
From a high vantage
Late in the afternoon
Or is this early evening?
An in-between of light and tone
Like my mood
I scan the roads
Which took me here
Now and in the past
And again perhaps
In some near or distant future
Far below
Moving slowly
Or so it seems
Scale and time
Diminished by the distance
Carloads of people
And luggage
Expectations
And dreams to be
Fulfilled or dashed
Some approach
Some recede
All have, or will
Round the curve below
Before, or after
Passing behind me
On the switchback’s final curve
Some stop
Unload their occupants
Who join me and the gentle breeze
On Cedar Mesa’s rim
To bask in changing sky
With quiet wonder
The Truer Path
My fear is always
More about the road
Already travelled
Than what is to come
I carry the past
As tragedies
And failures
Then project them ahead
Like road signs
Diverting me from a truer path
I remind myself
When checking the rearview
Acknowledge the tragedies and failures
Along the road once travelled
But leave them in the past
Then bring to mind
The triumphs and successes
Project these on every road ahead
As billboards of encouragement
On the Brink of Immensity
With my love I stand
On the brink of immensity
At once diminished to a speck
And raised up with a presence
I can only describe as divine
As immense as the canyon below me
My love takes my hand
Rests her head on my shoulder
Nothing is so grand as love
Grand ~ Pic and a Word Challenge #323
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
Horseshoe Bend
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
Mother Nature: Earth’s Artist in Residence
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
The Ebb & Flow of Possibility
In between
The dead
And the not dead
In between
What is
And what is not
In between
The light
And the not light
There find
The realm
Of possibility
Seen only
By those who conceive
A world without absolutes
Where dreamers dream
Between sleeping
And waking
While the world flows
Between being
And non-being
In the wakening hours we dance
Between self-remembering
And self-forgetting
This is the ebb and flood
Between the conscious
And the unconscious
Like the darkness
And the light
In eternal conflict
Only the master sees
The dominance of either
Is true darkness
While the light burns brightest
In those who come to know
The balance of both
Hard Rock Cradle
Hard rock cradle of the canyon
Fluffy down comforter in the sky
Below, a river flows
Brings all I see and need to life
Gentle Tenacity
I remind myself
Even the gentlest creeks
Carve canyons from bedrock
With the aid of time and tenacity
Pix to Words 