A canyon taught.
One early morn in early March,
Before a swooping lark.
Rolling mists rose from downstream,
Obscuring bush and stone,
Ascending thinned unveiling,
Rocks, trees to azure dome.
I perched on a stone mid shallow brook
That babbling - the silence broke -
A long night rain, had changed the scene
I drank it in, a waking dream.
Behind and up the canyon wall -
A sudden crashing thunder roar!
I jerking turned to see the wreck!
Of breaking branch and smashing ore!
Unseen except inside my mind -
Rumbling thunder rolling pour -
‘Til silent rest on slope and shore -
Amazed me all the more.
A mighty Ponderosa pine!
Had loosed its grip on earth and life,
The sandstone wall had let it go,
But not without a fight!
All around that mighty tree -
Stone and branch came breaking free!
Scars of change - though never seen.
Untold except by me.
Though spectacular to me,
Quite an ordinary thing.
An altered course a changing dream!What – if I’d gone upstream?