my canyonland home

I could draw heaven with a glance and a prayer
its two gusts of a breeze with nothing to carry but air
a twisted lock, stiff and unplaced
speckled with clay, blown into lace
Under knuckle sized rocks that grind with each touch of my sole
Silt, like silk, a layer over each toe

With no message to give me but that which I carry
With nothing to ask, except that we marry
No roof to offer, but a sky full of tears
Nothing to ask, but for all of my fears
Nothing to teach but the depths of my soul
No walls to keep out my canyon-land home

With a sky that’s bright when the sky would be bright
And a blanket of nothing, for each chilled, breezy night
No shade but a thorn, from warmth that it offers
No warmth from the cool, as day’s memories grow softer

As the breathe of the world floats the sun over mountains
Blush from white, as the colors find their fountain
Till all again is a silhouetted dance
But not of gaudy or feigned elegance
with steps that have no overburdened taste
And motions which nature does not claim to be chaste
Not deliberately slow, nor with intentional haste
but as natural and pure, as her sunned, windblown face

Not a measured beat, not planned and not simple
But as free and wandering, as the lines of her temples
Not joyous, nor a smile from a friend
But emptied of sadness, with no need of mend
Piercing and honest, like her sun-freckled stare,
as the moon breathes deep, of her swept, straw-like hair

it’s a shiver, is all on our mind
as a hand reaches out, another to find.
The wind blows through our fingers and the grass as it rolls
Our eyes full of stars, the stars full of our souls

No light need be given for my Love to give light
No sight need be given, for my Love to give sight.
No need to find truth, for this to be right
No need but for self, in my canyon-land night