We did a little trip up west of the La Plata Mountains today to see the Aspens. It is a strange year with some Aspens having already turned and dropped their leaves while other growths are yellow and yet some still green. But we had the added feature of new snow from last night.
We had a delightful trip to Santa Fe, NM last week end where we took in two operas at the Santa Fe Opera and visited the Botanical Gardens. We did a stop at Georgia O’ Keeffe’s Ghost Ranch on the way home.
We usually got to Santa Fe twice a year, but with Covid it has been about three years. Santa Fe is truly a magical place as is most all of New Mexico. The Hispanic and native Pueblan cultures, not to mention the landscape, take you to another place. And the food is wonderful.
A dark angel strove to conciliate the morning dew’s short life evaporating into the light under a bright July sun. Somewhere a dog barked. Somewhere a cat snarled. Somewhere a child cried. Somewhere a woman screamed. An angry ancient truck ground wearily up the old south road to a place where the moon never shines, where dark stars go to die. The sky turned orange yesterday when the blue lady left her cave flying on gossamer wings into the Mojave Desert. Somewhere a phone chirped. Somewhere a crowd cheered. Somewhere a soldier died. Somewhere people still laughed.
Cole lived with his wildcat lover in a hidden canyon of red rocks and dark starry nights where his music and song was performed for Ravens and buzzards and lizards and all the sisters and brothers. The Wildcat disappeared when the Barely Corn Moon rose above eastern parapets not to be seen again until summer sage bloomed in a purple haze of scent. A blue sky glowed golden where Ravens soared free from purple darkness when vampires flew, when banshees howled where there was the sorrow.
High mountain peaks where we longed to be above narrow valleys that sheltered our minds during the dark December before holiday luminarias when only writing our poetry and reading Virginia Wolf gave us hope for tomorrow’s eager new light to erase the quiet solitude of dark cafes with frosted windows which kept us alive when snow fell softly on extended tongues tasting of fresh coolness like from a first sweet kiss.