"The Cove"

Poem of the Day, Friday, November 29, 2024

Capitol Reef view

"The Cove"

Single trees, mostly ancient and craggy,
line the narrow path to the cove,
like sentinels of the past, nodding
as we pass, watching us as we enter
their sacred place of orange rocks

that arch high into sheer cliffs,
and then wrap around a dead end.
It’s quiet here, except for the breeze,
caressing each side of the cove,
blowing ever so slightly, so delicately.

Just above me, a canopy of soft murmurings
echo, dancing and hanging there,
perhaps trying to tell me something.
For a moment, I sit on an outcropping,
listening to the colors and rock formations.

One solid layer of burnt orange, black
and splotched and pocked, runs perfectly
for 20 feet or so until it disappears,
into the red sands of time and beyond,
just like the dwellers who once roamed here.

Perhaps, they sat where I now sit, saw
the same yucca, cloistered at the base
of the orange streak, mixing green sharp leaves
with colored rocks, half buried in the red sands
blown in and scattered over centuries,

or even mere days or weeks before.
The winds tense, rain clouds gather in 

the west, threaten ouster from this safe haven

as I part my chapped lips, silently eavesdropping
to the whispering songs of the ancient ones.