Mountain Time

In the mountains everything is too muchreading: too muchthinking: definitely over-muchwriting: maybe a little because grasshoppers are buzzingtheir tightly patterned bodiesthrough the meadowwhere butterflies are dancingto the beat a woodpecker drumsdown the hill in the pine and aspen forestwho sighs to let us know that the windis coming also because clouds are makingshadow pictures onContinue reading “Mountain Time”

Haiku | Red Dirt

folded, rolling skyover wide open countryred dirt, golden sun I don’t feel like this photograph I’ve given you above accurately portrays the landscape, but I don’t know if it’s possible for me to do it justice with ANY camera. I remember that day, the ride down a quiet road through red dirt hills under aContinue reading “Haiku | Red Dirt”

The Cloud

Written as a tribute to Shelley’s The Cloud on the 200th anniversary of his death Once I floated with heavy chokeabove these plains,poison laden, a viscous cocktailof ash and gasabove a boiling sea of rock My sisters rained to cool its wrathwho responded with a hissand a blackening visagethat would capsize if itcould only reachContinue reading “The Cloud”

Face

my face is riverstonethe bedrock smooth and sculptedby eons of rushing waterand the dry season’s wind ruts and valleys channeled inby the laughter of a babbling brook,pebbles deposited under the eyeswhose stillness are the poolsnear the banks, where moss andalgae rest, green, sometimes blue,with flecks of visiting dragonfly the long line of my nose istheContinue reading “Face”

June Rain

Grey lady walksacross the landgatheringvisits the coast, wades out to sealassos the waterspoutcollecting raindrops Scales the mountainsto pine needle musicharbors a cache of snowscooping up the wind Sweeps across the plainsraking armloads of sunshinefrom the skycomes away withpocketfuls of heat High steps over mesascombing wild hairwith wands of ocotillo Leaves dancing footprintsin the dustgracious fingersContinue reading “June Rain”

Earth

stripped down now,she adorns herself with winteran invisible layer exposed by absencea rough coat of ragged barkand spindled stickswith a scarf of last summer’s decay little birds hop at her shoulderswhile squirrels dig at her feetthe hoard of autumn now silentthe revelry of abundanceput away but also strewn about everything suggests the whiff of iceeverythingContinue reading “Earth”