The Dry Earth and Red Rocks
The red rocks, round, large and porous. Crevices
moving about from place to place. The temperature is high and dry.
This place is not far from the oasis of Las Vegas.
The red rocks stood as mountains in the distance, not moving, solid and
formidable. Young eager bodies, supple and strong moved about them at ease.
The dangers were there, still and dropping far.
The white soil of Southern California is here
in Nevada. Pickaxe and shovel are the tools of the garden. Sifting the
rocks in a shaking motion are the ways of this garden.
I remember the heat, the dry rocky white earth,
with cactus sitting atop the earth.
People and animals adjust to the climate. The
colors of the earth are here. You have to look closer/deeper, they are
subtle. This is the earth of my youth, without seasons, with only a calendar
to remind you of earth’s changes.
I realize that without water we are doomed to
bake in the sun.
The first time I saw the seasons change; I was
thrilled and very happy.
It is morning in Las Vegas; it is cool and peaceful
before the sun rises over the horizon. I imagine that all the creatures
are about the earth moving. Nibbling and hunting, they are about ready
to head back to their cool recline of shade.
The difference between sun and shade is extreme
and very noticeable. Laurel is about in this early morning air, sitting,
drinking her tea and awaiting the day.
David and Karen live in the desert, out in the
brown oasis. Where creatures scamper and fly in the moonlight because the
daylight sun is too hot. The day’s sun will try to bake our bodies. A burning
place where our sweat will turn to salt on our skin. And our unseen vapors
will try to moisten the atmosphere. I see people loving the red/orange
and blue sands that roll hot over dry landscapes. Dust lingers momentarily
as it moves across the dry lakes of sand. Am I supposed to know why some
people love sand, wind and heat?
I love tropical climates, rain every other day
and not to hot or too high a humidity. Where green leaves drip water and
moisture into fountains and pools.
Am I to know why some folks like an opera and
some folks like the rolling stones in our streams? Why do we move
our bodies over the earth? I know that we are pliable and that we adjust
our bodies and temperaments in our climates.
There are places on this planet where there are
no seasons,
only the burning season of sun and sandy prospectors.
Are We Done?
Are we done, our pots are still simmering?
Gathering thoughts, generating ideas, our evolving mind has moved into
the year 2000.
Are we done? No, we move forward some online, some not.
Nothing has gathered dust; thoughts have been turned like compost,
providing energy for our young new minds.
We have physically turned the soil and now we watch the flowers grow.
Life is truly amazing.
***
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