Monday, June 22, 2009

MEADOWS - a poem

Green script on brown papyrus soil,
Written translation impossible.
Patterns older than human letters,
Meadows create art everywhere.

Wide Sierra duff,
Guyot Flats, a meadow of brown pine needles,
softens foot fall at 10,000 feet.

Wider yet, Tuolomme green grasses peppered with stark blues, red, yellows, oranges of short lived wildflowers seeded by deep winter snows.
Keep to the trail; avoid delicate August blossoms.

Looping off to the horizon, Utah meadows filter through red rock monoliths.
Sparse sage and salt bush hold tenuous desert cement in meadows.
Winds sweep extreme afternoons, coolness crosses the landscape;
stunning sunsets

Is there a meadow I love best?

Potted with clear blue lakes,
Ponderosa and white pine filigree the edges,
Golden Trout Meadow, home of dragons
wandering the earth
protecting meadows everywhere.

Ah, and the meadows of the mind,
Relaxing, verdant moments where one wanders
unbeleaguered by the pressing issues of the day,
stepping round the hillocks of color,
breathing the fragrance of the unfiltered common space; collective unconscious.
The skies above and the earth below have created
meadows of reverie.