Waterfalls pour into pools
slaking lush garden purlieus;
a gurgling spring
bubbles from the depths
as unlidded sunlight
surmounts the horizon.
Tenting amid intermontane
canyons piques curiosity
concerning the porosity
of columnar basalt and limestone.
Eyes and feet attest to the rigors
and splendors of sparse pastures,
rangelands and croplands,
sylvan hills where trees foliate,
orchards that fructify,
salted deserts for remedy and refuge,
a variegated region by turns
blessedly rainy, accursedly dry,
where there is no such thing
as trackless wilderness.
Latish days subdued by darkness
close with sensuous delights recollected
in the minds of those for whom
wondering engenders wandering.