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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Reflections at 70

At birth
The world,
 Was a  blank canvas;
A palette,
Every color imaginable;
A brush,
Placed in my hand
To paint what could be.

At death,
A self-portrait,
Painted through decades
Of what was and is;
With permanent brush stokes
Highlighting how I lived.

Inbetween,
A gypsy caravan
Across this beautiful world;
Stopping to paint
Breathtaking beauty of mountaintops,
Piercing pain of valleys,
Exhilaration of achievements,
Despondence in disappointments;
A tapestry of
Laughter, tears, trials, and triumphs;
A marvelous adventure
Lived with those I love.

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