The sky that morning was like a crystal blue sea
that went on forever, just the blue sky and me.
I reached up a hand as if to capture the sky
but it slipped through my fingers, and I wanted to cry.
I dropped my hand down and thought about what to do -
Silly thought, that I could hold on to something so blue,
I just knew.
The mountains were green on that lovely spring day,
green from the rains that would soon fade away.
I thought of the summer beating down hot and bright,
of brown grass on the rock, and the trails in sunlight,
of dry summer lighting, and smoke in the air,
and how quickly the fire moved when the wind blew up there,
not so rare.
The river was high, rushing down to the sea
ice cold with the snow melt as it hurried by me.
Ignoring the lump in my throat as I stood
beside the green willow and the tall cottonwood,
I dreamed of the ocean and the taste of salt spray
and of rocks and of the wet sand and the end of the day,
end of day
too far away.