Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Okanagan Falls

A town slept and I climbed
a rover's trail, ladder steep
through the creeping down
of golden grass

Shale slipping under foot
and a quail alarmed
and flighty
on a grease-bush stick

Cactus blooms shriveled
crepe-paper thin,
my fingers tracing
the parched folds of summer's fire

A rock face, ore-stained,
an enduring likeness
of primal spirit,
the vigilant one

There I sat and watched the birth
of days like a monument
of flesh and bone
needing nothing but to breathe

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