The Rockies are healing.
coming from the East,
as one approaches the immense Lift in the Earth, an intake of breath begins which does not end .
like the backs of dinosurs appearing through the distant mists, and happy that with each blink they remain, growing closer...
in the Little Apple, i happened down Colorado Street yesterday.
At Noon I had stood in a high place near the lake,
with eyes closed, meeting the wet wind and
breathing in autumn molecules which had the scent of december
the trees were showing off luxurious overflow of color. some were impossible; God must have tweaked the hue/saturation button.
i needed more, and wended my way down into "old town" -- the blocks of houses which were stable over so many years. the trees were old and healthy. i turned and suddenly found a Lane of light and color; yellow, maze, burnt orange. the boughs overhung the road and reached to the other side. it was a painting, a hidden place, an atumnal archetype, in the middle of town. Too lovely not to share on this particular day; i went to the office, enticed the students, and off we went. Our path left the non-natives unsure of exactly where we were. But here it is: we were on Colorado Street and 16th, moving east. The magical street was a lane of colored light. It has been 24 hours but if you can make it, hie thee!!!
|hey hey we're the monkees|