03 July 2017

It's Amazing How Inspiration Strikes

“See”

witness
random shocks of purple
poking from the rocks, splashes of red
and yellow fire-petals providing relief
for the variations of brown on gray stone,
green on gray scrub;
splotches of rusty lichen speckling
the landscape, spattered patches of life
dropped from god’s paintbrush

inhale
a breath of bitter sage and dust
with a dryness—pine-sweet tinge—
a touch of storm on the horizon

note
the flicker of tails darting in,
tongues darting out of crevices,
the flirtatious tit-twit-chitter of a chipmunk,


curious why any creature would
dare the daytime
dried as the water paths carved
both deep and superficial into the features
of the Earth’s face

hear
life breezes whisper secrets
of the tempest
lurking, festering behind the impenetrable cliffs

overcome
after years of lightning strikes
and wildfire wounds, like the wilderness
regrows, resprouts—sprigs of faith and endurance—
I, too, refresh,
exhale, releasing outward, taking notice
of the desert’s solidarity,
its struggle,
its beauty

reflect
on winding trails, trials spiraling tighter,
leading my dusty steps higher until I work out
the rock lodged between my heel and
           
my soul




I penned bits and pieces of this poem (30 May 17) as I hiked along a trail in Fremont Indian State Park with a group of amazing, adventurous young women, including one of my own daughters. I lagged behind not because I am fat and old but to make a few observations that most of the girls and other leaders missed. The next day, I pieced the words together sitting in a camp chair waiting for them to return from rafting a portion of the Sevier River. It wasn't until several weeks later that I was able to puzzle out the format.


I think I'll post a little writing every so often...some polished...some rough. And I welcome any comments or criticisms or cupcakes you care to throw my way.