More Than

Less than a week of being off the water of the mighty Colorado River, my body is still rocking. Some call it disembarkment syndrome when your mind is sensing movement that is no longer there.

My mind returns to the shore of the Grand Canyon, Poncho’s Kitchen, thick sand, rock ledges where the silent scorpion was ready to pounce on a moth that night. How it glowed white under Danny’s UV light and we watched it move in its own darkness.

what we cannot see
hidden in summer shadow
more than time and space

____________________

dVerse prompt on sounds of summer – most scorpions make no sound – saw my first one while camping on the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon

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More Than

Remember the Day

My dad was on Okinawa when the atomic bomb hit Hiroshima.  He was a young sailor and rarely talked about his being there.  I never saw a photo taken there.  His wife was waiting in Iowa.  His children were future “boomers” after he came home.

In school I read about the war crimes.  About concentration camps and scientific experiments.  My short essay on “the mushroom cloud” over Hiroshima won a money prize.  Life went on for everyone except the ones who died.  

hear the winter wind

acid rain falling for days

folds night on the land

Remember the Day