With acoustics as fine as these
eternal echoes make it difficult
to be a stranger here.

I'm welcomed by the cottonwoods
Russian olives and barbed wire fences,
all echoes of my childhood,
and wind whispers and gasps
from the Earth's birth.

A small Monarch butterfly
who didn't seem a bit self-conscious
about it's royal name
floated by to greet me
on my early walk today, so
there must be a milkweed-like
plant somewhere to be discovered
supporting its life-cycle.

We mavericks have entered the Canyon
and seem a bit hard to corral.
Any stallions down-wind might
flinch nervously, but we will only
rest and play, rest and play,
rest and play in Mother Earths's
immense, indescribable
crib and playpen.

The bank swallows who
made those caves must have been
mythic in size!

I'm thinking I want to change
my name to Cliff!

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