Plain as paper, one can explore
the blank sheet, the light clouds
stretching across the Great Basin –
snow upon the purple ranges,
time unchanging time. Here
the wheel was lifted by hand,
progress slow, each step digested.
In a bullet, we fly by at seventy
into hours of silent space, whole
thoughts shared between us
without words spoken – not another
near, but the old souls who left no trail,
who camped and crossed before.
No place for dreamers nor the heartless,
this plain sage-ness, not for those
afraid of coyotes, ghosts and darkness –
yet so accessible from here
as we float from Elko to Bishop, home.
Thanking Amy for the email that triggered here.