The cottonwoods outlining the canyon creek
Flared first and faded. Then the ochre cliffs
Heaped up behind had a turn in the sun.
The high, dark laccolith went glowing grey.
Clouds would have glowed after that, but
There were no clouds at all this evening,
Just a bluish, yellowish blue, greyish blue
Distance once again losing the local light.
To you, survivor of thousands of sunsets,
It may have meant something, or felt like it,
Still, after so many years, after extra years
You hadn’t expected, this familiar sequence.
What goes with sequence? Consequences.
But you, who did not generate the sequence
Take no credit or blame for what follows,
What went with it. Funny animal to inhabit.
We found ourselves circling in your thoughts
Having circled for centuries and more
In others, exploring our temporary residence
Of you, who brought us to life, who brought
Us your life, however long we’d lain fallow
Between bodies. We would like to garland
Ourselves, or your memories with ourselves,
So that an ordinary beauty of desert sunset,
Once seen in sequence, would reanimate over
And over again, consequence of us, dancing.
No comments:
Post a Comment