Memory

R1-01888-025A

Six days in the canyon.

Its river,

Its wind, sand, and sun,

become the total of reality,

quieting my existence,

making it simple.

Time and doings measured

by daylight and stars.

Then, up, out of the depths,

away from the magic.

More than two weeks pass,

in the city,

traffic, people,

noise, grit,

washed-out skies,

frazzled buyers,

lined up for deals,

electronics,

And yet,

At night,

my eyes close,

and I see the red-rock walls,

hear the river,

imagine the stars,

and feel the earth,

the sand,

and the wind.

The canyon is mine.

It is part of me.

Grateful,

for memory.

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