On Canyon Floor
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.
There is a spirit caught here in The Narrows
the sanctuary of Zion, angels landing.
The courtyard out here with the iron table
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.
Again, the Germans with their large cameras
strung around their necks and children.