Turquoise water—
God or weather had made the way
for what could have been brown with silt
but not on this day—
clear was the Little Colorado River
as it careened past quick sand
past boulders
and sacred places
into the confluence
of rivers
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dVerse prompt to write a quadrille using the word careen, Learn more about this sacred place
https://www.grandcanyontrust.org/blog/grand-canyon-little-colorado-river-native-voices
Standing on Navajo Bridge
I see two condors
on the cliff face they look small
great wings tucked and resting
Colorado River moves below
takes rafters through the Grand Canyon
hoping to see a condor
maybe a peregrine falcon
Our guide tells of the time
high on the rock ledge
temperatures so hot
fledglings died in their nest
Still I want to see a condor take flight
I want to watch it soar
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Nesting condors have been observed at Zion National Park and I am hoping that global warming doesn’t push them out of their nests too early. https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-9814501/amp/Two-critically-endangered-California-condors-spotted-near-Zion-National-Park.html
I remember sleeping out under the stars during a Girl Scout campout. It was an open area, few light pollutants and a cloudless night. I learned the North Star (Polaris), the dippers both Big and Little (Ursa Major and Minor), Cassiopeia, and as we lay on our sleeping bags looking up, a cross directly above us. The scout leader shone a flashlight into the direction she wanted us to look and we could follow her light to the next star or constellation.
Decades later I woke on my cot in the middle of the night. I was at the Upper Tanner on the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon. New moon. Deep sand. It was so hot, I lay naked on my sleeping bag. I couldn’t sleep, watched the Milky Way, and saw Pleiades rising.
under this one sky
a circle magnificent
above or below
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dVerse prompt to write a haibun of an experience in the natural world that influenced your life. Going through the Grand Canyon on a rafting trip grounded my life to the power of nature (God).
Poems twist & turn like rivers
flow smooth then forcibly
overflowing its banks
determined strong
even when still
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Wish you were here
watch sunrise onto the south rim
woke early first ones on the trail
hard to see the river
yet knowing it is there
with its twists & turns
through the canyon
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Alpenglow on stone walls
make new colors
shadows roll up the cliff face
brings out the song
of canyon wren
each note a twist then a turn
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Cut to the core of it
down to the base — the heart of it
was the water forming
then released never knowing
it would someday be a trickle
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We leaned towards home
like rivers —
where to bend
where to spill over
where to stop & pool
how to reflect
_____________________________________
Looking up towards the south rim
we could see people
were they looking down at us
so very small
in this vast canyon
riding the twists & turns
of the river
_____________________________________
Not all rivers run fast like this one
here in the canyon
you can tip go under
swim for your life
some rivers run slow—
take on the sun—
good to swim
_____________________________________
Row and row and row your boat
gently—
gently I say
down—
down the stream
merrily—
merrily—
what is life but a dream—
dream of a river
rowed midstream
gently—
gently—
life is a dream
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Sometimes we must portage
— take higher ground
— study terrain
while others go fast
straight over the waterfall
into the still blue waters below
_____________________________________
Sometimes
the waterfall is fatal
rips off the life jacket
takes me under
sometimes
the waterfall is thunderous
can’t hear myself think
sometimes
the waterfall is so moving
we stand for hours
to contemplate
to explanate
_____________________________________
Path of the river not straight
full of twists & turns
erosion and change
and it goes on catching light
as it goes
carves a new shore
creates sand and gorge
_____________________________________
We wanted to know more
about a name
how to the water it went
creeking
shaped its course
carried debris and treasures
fed ferns
listened for the return
even when dry & barren
_____________________________________
Who remembers
what we ate for dinner
in Poncho’s Kitchen?
tucked under a rock ledge
in the Grand Canyon—
fed by the crew who cooked
and carried our shit
back to the raft—
on we floated
knowing the biggest rapid
was in going forward
_____________________________________
Looking up
we could see the rim
both north and south
where the Navajo Bridge
connected sides in Marble Canyon
further along
the footbridge
where hikers can cross
from one side to another
Colorado River flowing below
_____________________________________
I want to write about
the weather—
how the rain came
and put the fire out
just when we thought it was hopeless
I want to write about the river—
how it moved volumes of water
beneath us
and carried us along
with its blessing
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I want to write about how the sun
comes up
lapping waters with its rays—
I want to write about
how in the predawn there is a mist
that clings
nothing can be seen on the shore
only the light that begins
to settle on that mist
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As a little girl I walked in the creek
to search for agate & salamanders
built curbside dams
when the rain came
mixed flower soup
my father never taught me to shoot
I feared his gun—
prayed he would never
turn it on me
like the defenseless jackrabbit
he killed one day for sport
_____________________________________
There is only so much to be said
about rivers and poetry
yet we keep writing
watch the words stumble
onto paper— ink flowing
some kind of meaning
comes out into the open
_____________________________________
“The moon shimmers in green water. White herons fly through the moonlight.” Li Po
There is always something more
to say about rivers—
how we step into its waters
sure of foot
fish flee then nibble at the feet
_____________________________________
“Light of unspeakable richness…”
John Muir
There is light in the NW
speakable gloom
someday I will endure it
I will winter over and count
the continual days of rain
_____________________________________
“To lovers of the wild, these mountains……” John Muir
Yes, England has mountains
you say & a legacy of poetry—
words that still toll through time
— more renowned for its poets
than its mountains
_____________________________________
There is sorrow for a state
that doesn’t have a mountain
oh Nebraska you flatland
we drove you all day
in a rain storm
you are plowed straight
yield much
feed many
but where are your mountains?
_____________________________________
We hiked Saddleback
Little Colorado in the Grand Canyon
dry even with water
Palo Duro Canyon trails
great day hikes out of campground
love the trails of Zion
so many slot canyons
yet to explore
_____________________________________
“Every trace of dimness had been washed from the sky; the mountains were dusted and wiped clean with clouds…..” John Muir
Oh Texas
you have your mountains
Palo Duro Canyon
second to this Grand Canyon
we hiked for days there
the wind stampeded over my tent
Mt Davis campground
where the acorn woodpecker
fed its babies
retreat to Indian Lodge
_____________________________________
Oh New York
you have your mountains
snow covered in winter
a black diamond marks your slopes
sound of snow on ski—
speed and skill
but no time to stop
on black diamond trail
_____________________________________
“Light of unspeakable richness….”
John Muir
I am trying to understand
how light falls on Alaska
how hours are gained in light
how hours are gained in darkness
and that one point where
there is always LIGHT
_____________________________________
Last April I climbed the staircase
of the Desert Watch Tower—
the way was narrow
I had to hold on
I made it to the top
with other tourists
I snapped some pics—
miles of canyon could be seen
and a storm coming in
_____________________________________
Today the sun shines—
castes shadows that fall
towards winter
tomatoes hurry to ripen
leaves brown
I pick cucumbers & peppers &
squash & eggplant to stir fry
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Each stanza was written on a postcard for August Postcard Poetry Festival – the postcard was an artist’s rendition of the Grand Canyon painted from the south rim called “Poetic Twists & Turns”. The artist is Serena Supplee.
Travelling with the storm perched over the canyon we head to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon both going there the storm moving faster along the rim while we drive over the plateau happy to be dry in these moments arriving at the campground everything is wet but the storm has passed the sky clears revealing the colors of layers of chiseled rock lit by the setting sun
Two years later I travel that same road there is no storm but snow is on the ground where the Cat Fire burned last summer we watched it burning from deep in the canyon hotshot fire fighters called in helicopters fly in and out delivering their load plumes of smoke rise over the Kaibab Forest we float safe on the water of the Colorado River and smell the air from 8,200 feet above now the snow covered ground hides the char of the Cat Fire black surrounds the base of these ponderosa pines others are burned completely pinyon junipers pine needles scrub brush 4500 acres burnt from a lightning strike
Two California Condor on the ledge
young ones with faces to the cliff
it was a cold night
after warming up they will fly
if you hear the wings pound
watch them soar
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Saw these condor when walking the Navajo Bridge
From where I am a river is flowing below Lake Powell dammed up by Glen Canyon Dam
Here the river now runs freely the entrance to Marble Canyon thick walls of Kaibab Formation chiseled by wind water and time
Sound of
white cap cascades
river rock boulders make
rapids and new path
need to scout
best way
to go
Find
a course
rough cut edge
on the left
go right
pitch
Turn
currents
strong pull
away from hole
too deep
avoid
Make it this time into calmer waters free floating gentle moving giant the Colorado River
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dVerse prompt on cascade – camping above Paria Riffle Grand Canyon NP
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
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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
fix my knee
count to three
stiff neck
what a wreck
climbing high
to the sky
Grand Canyon
find companion
feeling ill
take a pill
lay in chair
get some air
a new feelin’
done with reelin’
eat a cracker
I’m no slacker
find a look out
got no doubt
I can do it
nothing to it
comin’ round
don’t look down
feelin’ better
take off my sweater
no more chills
just Canyon thrills
on to Zion
more heights tryin’
Glory to God
Glory to God
and the Canyon
Maker of heaven
and earth
and the Canyon
wordshophop 