Tuesday, September 14, 2004


As the first snow falls
We head south
Skirting the plain
To New Mexico
And Santa Fe
An artist's tube of alizarin crimson
Is squeezed with abandon
Over the rising mountains
And the blossoming sunset
Takes our breath away

Through the dusty blue hills
Riding the whirlwind
We came into Taos
On a sunny and cold morning
Searching for Carol Starr

Adobe galleries and Native American trinkets
Tinkled around the out-of-season square
Your answering machine talked to us
Your friend in the Gallery told us
That of the top-ten dangerous junctions for road accidents -
Five were in Dallas.
But your town spoke with light
From an ancient but forgiving heart

And in the evening
We took the Rio Grande route
Across the gorge
Leaving behind the sunset
Of pure gold
For other prospectors


Syl said...

Reminded that some of the most beautiful sunsets in the world are in that region. And somehow the sense of open sky that never ends.

Roger Stevens said...

The evening skies were amazing.
The poem is taken from a much longer one and needs some work. Not sure it's really a contender but came across someone (Jaded) via The Garden of Earthly Delights blog (which I'll be adding to my links soon when I've got a minute) who lives near Santa Fe.

The Stick poem was for Sylv.