columbine falls

once just a name on a bow
a place on a map
high water brought me to her

gentle paddle through swollen backwater
as bass, carp, channel cat
muck amongst arrow weed, cattail, willow

perfectly, gingerly her namesake clings
shining yellow gold
in the mist of falls into river

Rhonda Barbieri

Rain Desert

It rained on the red rock desert today
Against a sky grey, black, blue,
Air the color of rain,
The coolness of rain,
Lightning steaking the desert towers
Burning its eternity into the juniper tree,
Pot holes full of sweetness for animals that must drink to find food
In land of little except space and blueness in its view of beauty with plenty.

This is the rain desert, becoming,
With the wet of forest skies water seeps into cracks
Replenishing reservoirs of springs,
Blackbrush drinking as if to be ready for the next decade.

M Rees
25 May 97
Utah 128

The Boatman

It was not late at night.
My electric bulbs would burn
with the flick of the switch.

It was not romantic, rose red
like Valentine's day or some
special occasion to profess
the truest emotion.

There were dishes in the sink
and a map unfolded on the table.
You were not planning,
only searching,
possible places to call home.

I lit a stub of candle, mostly gone
but the flame still bright. Enough
to see the map's tiny filigree lines,
counties and cities
secondary highways and interstate junctions.

The map held possibilities.

You considered only the tiniest of dots,
the widest of open spaces.

It was time for you to live, somewhere.
Beyond the river and canopy of sky
where often you made your bed
laid your head and slept
freely.

But that age old ache for place
had settled in your bones.
Where would you, where might you call home?
.
Red candle drippings rolled to the table.
You collected them on top a vitamin cap.

And in the pile of soft warm wax
you saw, a bear. Stared
intently at its shape.

I, too, saw the bear. Clearly.

Really, you and I had spent enough
time together to be comfortable
with the candle and the map.

But only time for hours, maybe longer,
not connecting too many days in a chain.

Inside you and inside me, much more than told.

But when, in the red cooling wax,
you saw the bear,
I understood.

There was nothing else
I really needed to know.

Kim Zanti