Boquillas Canyon Nocturne Draft 1

I was inspired by my time canoeing down the Rio Grande about a year ago, and I feel very good about this poem, I hope you like it.

I admit that when the blue, silken

linings of the wide empty sky slip

away as the sun retires, I stay awake

 

after the orange embers forsake

their warmth, choking on the cooling

river water. Nobody’s concerned

 

after the sun’s down and fire’s burned

away so the stars can remove their

pale, blue vales to dimly shine again,

 

and though this is the farthest I’ve been

from the city lights more constant

the sun’s magnificent rays

 

the stars form no greater a display,

nowhere near as sublime here

than the deserts farther still

 

from the city’s lights ever shrill,

But why continue to gaze up

to the heaven so displeasing? One

 

might ask in annoyance or frustration,

if no wonder’s found why not sleep, as

others now sleep, when the lamps dimmed,

 

and their squinting eyes shrouded,

and their mind clouded? Early day

tomorrow, sleep. But rest does not

 

concern me now as it ought

to when I must paddle down

those cool, swirling currents

 

and the sun’s light will torment

the pale skin of my nape all

the way. The luminous stars

 

burn like the fireflies they are,

slowly and gently, or their light

is pearlescent like glowworms

 

in dark caves. Their surreal forms

fascinate me ever. Look. I said,

just for once this cooling night,

 

where, free from moonlight,

and silently floating through the dark

ceiling, a sight no human deserves to see.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Anyone helpful critiques are appreciated