“…No one loves rock,
Yet we are here…”
- Gary Snyder
Winding this thin jeep trail of a road
Between high desert walls;
Snaking it through layered rock,
A jumble of broken plates
Fired red with dusk –
Our feet slip in loose gravel;
Predicted silence
Echoes deep into our ears.
We’ve come all afternoon,
Eyes and legs and hearts
Scrambling among warped stone
For some place to spread our camp.
Now,
Blankets open to the stars,
We lay ourselves down,
Tracking the unseen path of bats
Against a darker plate of sky;
Weeds scratch the ground behind our ears.
Simple rock,
Beneath a winter moon;
This earth relaxing warmth into the night –
Chorused by the song of dogs,
We wade into such dreaming.
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