canyon
walls like cursive
their
lines impatient with the sun
and
the river rush
an
echo below when dusk comes
there are words that fit the poem
you
think you've found
before
they adjust and move on
fissures
are connected
passing
over each hour
finding
new meaning
from
warm and cold rock
a
grounding for the body
there
might be talk from some
that
a hand came down
to
touch all this
beyond
the supernatural
the
sun and moon
with
a hand as well
by night
a new song
and
galaxy
will
take flight
---
e b bortz
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