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Lost Canyon


Everything here slides toward the canyon's edge ― boulders, cobbles, pebbles, grains of sand ― and once having dropped over will be swept by flash floods into the Colorado. The river's massive flow will carry all as silt into the Pacific.

I can't resist nudging a cobble. Seconds later, a barely audible "plunk!"

I too am slipping toward the companion sitting next to me, our feet dangling over the edge. I'm afraid to let go, afraid of the free fall into the complexities of relationship ― lusting, bonding, loving, declaring ― afraid of those everythings we carry with us.

almost sunset
shadows mingling
on ancient stone

red bar

Ray Rasmussen, Frogpond


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