Lamoille Canyon Summer

Breeze,

            aspen rustle.

grass-

                        Bark aroma melds

                                    with hot sage.

            Hop-

            Wine sated, sun drowsy,

                        a rock seat presses my bowels.

Spear grass,

                        -pers

            thread grass,

                        fern flowers, blue dick,

                                    click-

            baby daisies enfold me.

Yellow columbines

            nourish orange monarchs.

                                                flit

Dapple-shaded

            Indian paintbrush,

                        glows radiant vermilion in reflected light.

I peer from my cocoon into canyon.

                        Click-

            Bleached, gray-ochre walls,

                                                            Flit

tested, twisted, tortured

                        into martial ranks,

            Click-

begrudging time’s change in jagged chunks:

                                                Flit

            enduring sentinels of seasons.

July, 1997

Madison River

Emerging from the dark, pine-lined roadway

          We view the slowly fading day

                    Ease into night.

Light lingers in the west.

Dove gray satin,

A blemish free sky,

Reflects into molten silver ripples and rapids

           That meander between snake-black banks.

Pale geysers vent sulfurous, pearly steam

          Rising wispy, silhouetted against valley walls

                    Fringed with ebony needles, burnt trees.

Asphalt follows the river’s bend.

          We re-enter the forest’s tunnel,

                    Headlights on.

         1998

August Morn

Early morning sun glitters through

            hissing water

spraying from a brass nozzle

my hand adjusts to just the right force.

Ritualized rain showers

            flowerbeds, stone lined,

guarded from invasive grass,

            errant gravel.

Cool kissed breezes promise warmth,

            a too cozy comforter.

Water highlights

            peach poppies, purple delphiniums before

high sun bleaches colors into muted sameness.

Swishing spray writes in the air.

            Daisy petals dance on swaying stems,

                        bejeweled by glancing droplets.

Moist earth aroma rises.

My walking shoes, freckled with watered dust,

            Turn aside.

Soon, I am enclose within

a work day’s four walls.

August, 1999