Desert Retrospective

Ninth Day in Horseshoe Canyon

March 30th, 2017

In a place of sandstone walls, boulders, perennial water and cottonwoods (they always smell to me like a mix of cut grass and spring water).

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Life follows the trickle here:

willows, toads,

quick spiders the

size of half-dollars,

and cougars

walking in pairs

upstream.

 

 

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Choke-cherries

rooted in rock.

Falcons strafing

past cliffs

screaming for

each other.

 

 

 

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Hard sun

Soft shade

Hard sun

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Alcove—

a place where

water seeps,

seeds gather,

maples grow trunks,

voices lob in from

down canyon, and

breath halts after the heft of the inhale.

 

 

 

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Answering questions with ideas resembling knowledge and hoping they are attended by humility, not authority.

Singing.

Imagining dinosaurs and ferns and tree-trunk sized horsetails, and later, people gathering by firelight to paint tent-like ghost figures, and later, figures walking with laden packs imagining what came before them.

 

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RememberingIMG_9002

that sometimes

muddy torrents after thunder

fill canyons

with rapidity and grace

bringing down

living soil from flats and ledges,

cones of pinions,

scent of junipers,

hapless lizard,

and posturing stinkbug

in a scouring,

violent

act

of creation.

 

 

 

 

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