• Brandon Marlon


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.



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