Crag

the suns wide, bright boughs, 

came down

filling the pages of our lives like a

heavy handed palm print.

our pasts merged

and bled into angled shadows.

long had they remained, hovering about

the roots of ancient trees, 

finding damp earth

in which to flourish.

the days lingered warm and wholesome.

our happiness wandered over loose rock, hidden

horse paths and

steep switchbacks.

home to this flowered land, 

the damp soil drew

its mark on my bare feet.

I saw only bleached dandelions

exploding to effluent gold, 

blinding our weathered eyes.

we laughed at the raw beauty

exposed to our senses.

the land yielded its fruit,

alleviating

our ambitious souls thirst.

the thirst of a man seeking the measure

of his body against the high mountains.