Part I.
Musing on the call of the high desert.
The yellow and red rock, smooth and rough, round and jagged,
Inviting touch and exploration.
Mountains laid bare, chiseled and pocked by the elements,
Comforting in their nakedness,
Suggesting the sacred.
Rock becoming sand,
Landscape in motion, still with age.
The stark blue sky an exclamation mark.
Part II.
Towering canyon walls and boulders,
A landscape of histories.
The imprint of First Peoples,
The rubble of ancient cities and suburbs.
Leaving so much to wonder.
The magic is like sand,
Drifting into the cracks of my soul.
A stunning landscape,
Rich in unknowns, layered unevenly.
So old that we feel like children,
Asking endless questions.
Kathi Lees, March 2016
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