Late Show

Within the pleats of this spherical exquisite we
down and out our eyes
to wander bird plea and time.
Altitude cleaves and conjured green
quells close to the teeth of the canyon.
We hunt a measure
endowed with stout owls. It is ancient
and it is temporary. If we climb the scars
in the rises, within the nest 
of fundamental rocks, 
all this crumbling shows us Earth
written in light, the vapor
of various eons. Of course we will cross over
or back to a regular life. But not
before watching the intimate
pause. Not until
this place has transported us.
After hours the sky lamps up.
Silver pinpricks mist trees. Greet us
graceful with that brimming. We haven’t ended.
Or we have barely begun.

Photo Courtesy of Jennifer Weigel