soft sunlit
early morning song of free flowing streams
singin the one syllable energy voice
hummmmm…
listening?
(…..red purple mountain canyons…seeing?
…..orange drenched highways runnin
by…contemplating?
…..good day, children…throwing kisses?)
Colorady chipmunk perched ontop mesa rock
in one quick prank darts off,
this, a pre-breakfast lesson
about revelation
where jerboa lives today
some reveling drifts through high yellow grasses,
humming its silent bouncy songs
day-night-dark-light:
(“can I patter a bit closer to you,
I’ve never seen such a bearded piece of fruit here,
where I live?")
uncomplicated displays are as much a certainty as
this coming on anyhow journey
tonight with clearer eyes I dream
with more a vivid heart I gaze across these colossal peaks,
where voices echo further songs of now
of what may be disclosed
of that which still unfolds
8/5/73
Beaver Creek, Colorado