Consuming Empty

In the canyon –

Red dust

and the buzzing chatter of bees

around the fragrance of yarrow blossoms

and mule manure.

A green oasis

and the glint of sunlight on the river,

both impossible to reach in a day.

Humbled by the very ground beneath our feet

(that clings to our ankles and colors our cheeks),

we turn back and gain elevation.

 

On the rim –

One thought from the mind of God

brought this into being (or not being,

since the absence of earth here is what awes me).

 

Air above me, air below;

the canyon is full of air and color.

I breathe in deep enough to fill myself;

somehow I am not consumed.

 

A falcon glides

below my dangling feet,

at home in a place I could not fathom

if I sat on this ledge

for a thousand years.

 

 

May 2006

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