30 October 2010

Downcanyon in Zion

We ride downcanyon
sandstone Patriarchs towering above us
the murmuring, tumbling Virgin constant,
before, behind, and beside us.
The cool, breezy air carries
the scent of decaying leaves: fall.

It is nearly dusk,
the sun sank beyond the canyon walls
a while ago

A still buck
watches me watch him
curious and unafraid
he chews and contemplates
from his patch of roadside grass

Further on,
a yellow and brown scorpion
contrasts with the red asphalt
and we all stop to gush over
the venomous power
in his tiny tail
like we might sweet talk
a small puppy with a large growl

By increments
the cold permeates
the darkness settles
and on we ride
wheels spinning
the girls’ hair floats effortlessly
trying to rise above their helmets
and on we ride ride ride
past other deer
massive cottonwoods
low stone walls
and the river,
always the river,
as we fly
in Zion.