reading sheep mountain

reading sheep mountain

it's no accident

the driest places

show most clearly

water's work

cacti lean from the edges

of white canyon walls

while above and below all color is

abandoning the grasses, the sage,

swirled pallets

of burnt tan

each arm of the hill a bobcat's,

pawing

at the plains

toes, claws animated

by rains that leave

as quickly as they pounce

sudden storms

flashing across open space

rivers everywhere

and the sound of water

rushing downward always

downward

at night, the barren face

of this place

cries itself

into rich, flowing mud

mourns centuries,

layer by layer,

into an open book