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Saturday, June 7, 2014

On Mesa's Edge



On Mesa's Edge

On mesa's edge, above Thoreau
I sat a while and thought of you
amongst the scattered piñon trees
in lightly blowing western breeze.

I sat a while and thought of you
no words to say, not much to do
Me sitting here, you laying there
I hoped you knew how much we care.

I looked around and saw rocks there
flat and long and grey and bare
and stacked them in a little pile
dark patches growing all the while

On limestone slab, I carved your name
in letters deep and hard and plain
A hundred years, maybe three (or two?)
on mesa's edge to speak of you.

So we pass on while rocks remain,
We feel joy and loss and pain,
while rocks remain to show we cared
all stacked together, piled there

I wonder if you come to sit
on mesa's edge, out near the lip
bathed in warm glow of setting sun
this life complete, the next begun

The eagles nest below you there
borne, like thoughts, by drafts of air
Do you, like eagle, soar above
look down on us and sense our love?

A year has passed, a year you're gone
it feels like maybe twice that long
We stayed behind, on earth, below
while you soared on in sunset's glow.

You started early on that trip
You let go while we still grip
I wonder if you wait on ledge
of mesa's top, out near the edge.

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