Each tree a world
every rock a discovery
the creek in pools of light
the river and its tributaries -
rarely do I understand myself
or anybody else. The fox runs.
The squirrel climbs, and mankind
so full of holes and contradictions.
Half of this canyon
in sunlight, the other side
in shadow, the sky
its own kind of blue,
whichever way I look
the overwhelming details
taken as one or taken
as a whole,
sugar pine cones,
Tiger Lily blooms,
this one chance with words,
granite holding up the air.
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