Morning clouds savor the sun;
Lingering layer upon layer,
Like comfortable bed clothes
Wrapped in warmth.
ln a moment soon gone,
They paint the sky
From edge-to-edge
With red-orange brush;
Indescribable hues of beauty.
The entire world seems to stop,
To behold such a giant canvas;
That soon melts away;
Leaving only a memory,
Until tomorrow.
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Cloudy Morn

The clouds attack this day
Like infinite tons of steel
Smashing the sun.
Holding the morning hostage
With no ransom,
Except a promise;
Sunshine someday.

Sky and horizon
Look the same
A green-grey-granite;
Cold as a gravestone
In the dead of winter.

Emotions emulate the clouds,
Sluggish, stupid funk;
Sinking into squalor.
Leaving behind the dregs
Of half-drunk coffee.
Give the energy to say,
“Good morning world.”

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Bluffs Near Gallup, New Mexico

Red Rock Bluffs

Red rock rises from the river;
Painting the dessert horizon,
Like a giant downtown mural.

Water-washed caverns
Hide some ancient artifact;
Important to someone, sometime.

Route 66 used run this valley;
Taking automobile pilgrimages
To a promise land called California.
Here they hang on to a past;
Signs and stores still carry the numbers
Emblazoned on a shield.

Look closely now!
On the ridge line
A solitary scout,
Ancient warrior;
Silent sentinel;
Seeking out danger
In the valley below;
Hearing only the whine of truck tires
And the cars on the Interstate.

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