Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser
Sunset over the desert, northwestern Peru 2004
rests her weary head
over the Ridge.
I wonder if I should
envy her confident
I have tendency
to linger in
A delicately intimate relationship
with the magical bardos of
Dawn and Dusk
hallmarks my life.
Often, I transition
in good company:
On an Andean cliff edge
the mystic and I,
surrounded by gracious children,
would share in pregnant silence
during the Hour of Power –
Until one of us
spotted the first star
and giggled uproariously.
The watery melodings of
oropendolas and currawongs,
Bumble bees stretching and yawning
as they awaken on coneflower beds,
The sand surface break through of
furiously in pursuit of surf,
Satiated bats last morsel flight,
Zealous cicadas first declaration.
A painter’s most passionate wandering pallet,
Vociferous owls and frogs the world over,
And oh the whip-poor-will,
Magical hikes up mountains and at lakeside
until moonrise begs our full attention,
Does retrieving dappled fawns
in dense wildflower meadow,
Emerald-green katydids at window pane
preparing to play their wings
with the passion of short-season urgency.
So, to my questioning,
I think not.
I think, perhaps, that I shall vow
to grow old while padding along
edges and frolicking
Those who have not yet
called me crazy
might find reason to do so.
For, in fact,
it dawned on me long ago:
making stepping stones of the in-between
is the only way
© 2010/Jamie K. Reaser