Often as I sleep, Zion, I hear your canyon's colors
colliding, as the wind whispers through crafted
river cane. Once again, Grandfather Coyote,
tall and unwavering, is here with me, dancing
beneath the ever present eyes of Spotted Owl-
whistling from his Northern Perch.
I sense the flute's warble snake through my own bones,
reminding me of just how my Creator has fine-tuned these
precious notes- of breath, of blood, of circulation, of heart's
rhythm, beating- into strident melodies, both tender
and sharp as the whittled arrow. Zion, as you gift
me even more treasured time here, deep within
your rainbow walls, I fear that in being so filled
with your Spirit, I may wish to never return-
to that other land, where sight and hearing
too oft fail to notice, reverberation's wonder
resounding- as happens quite naturally,
here in Zion Canyon.
As an Ecstatic Poet, my aim is to awaken in you, the part of you that knows the truth of your being, the beauty of your soul.