To Zion, Utah

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On Canyon Floor

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Lay down on the canyon floor

face up, heavenward

the sun has burned into the sandstone

the heat crystallizing the iron oxide

sun bleached rock, sandstone above

the pebbled river

bits of canyon across the well-worn floor.

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There is a spirit caught here in The Narrows

the sanctuary of Zion, angels landing.

The courtyard out here with the iron table

for two.

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Lay down and pray, face heavenward

and learn the language of the gods

the deep cliffs of sandstone

an oasis of magnificent heights

so tall I stumble backward

into the visual vortex I want to climb

meet strangers to tell the truth

an offering of goodness among

church bell chimes

a green patina spire along the red rim border

the spirit, lifting along the echoing of bird calls.

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Again, the Germans with their large cameras

strung around their necks and children.

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