barn yoga


She smiles, encouraging us
to follow her lithe arms
in their graceful arc

smooth unbroken sweep
of head, torso, hand down
the standing leg, then up, over

her voice soothing as sonorous chimes
in gentle breeze, lulling me
into soft response, malleable

and mute. I bend, sway
attuned to this moment
beneath high beams, expand


morph into air borne grace
as if to take flight, follow
the swooping swallows into light.


hiking bryce canyon


Bryce Canyon is an epic poem, a fantasy novel forever unfolding, creative non-fiction and personal narrative in uncountable variations. Hiking the canyon is a writer’s paradise: at every turn, a prompt. You can’t walk ten feet without inhaling a panoramic sweep of towering red hoodoos or savoring the silver light glinting off smooth twists of drift trees. Iron red layers erupt with evergreen, juxtaposed against white monoliths. Contrast, change, challenge.

Each step a measured descent from rim to canyon floor, a descent into the detailed particulars of evolution and scale. Each rock measured by time we cannot begin to fathom, though we attempt by placing our human companions before a tower of stone for visual contrast. Each sprawling-rooted tree eking its survival amid sliding stone, the stone itself shape-shifting with time. Hoodoos rising like monuments to imagination, only to crumble imperceptibly to boulder, to graveled dunes of multi colored sand. Continue reading