The San Luis Valley ABCs

Altitude defies melt, clings to snow
beneath a sun perched on a blue beam
cantilevered invisibly into starry
dark. You’ll never,
ever see the stars
fight emptiness like this.
Goddamn! You’ll say.
How have I never seen the galaxy’s milk?
I only now am full denizen of earth.
Just blame city mazes, convenient concrete,
know a lifetime of humid skies,
low clouds can blind, obscure the mind.
Mountains named for blood make a bowl for a
never to be seen sea. Over subterranean
ocean caverns, earth is desert.
Poor, salty, white crust (Google Earth it)
quit acting fertile decades ago, but for green circles.
Recently a local man watched an alpine creek—
sucked underground in the spring—rise again
to greet November 1, the day pivot spigots sleep.
Unbelievable, you’ll say, but listen.
Visit creeks at just the right time.
Watch the water fall and rise and wish.
Xeriscape reacts with little harvest.
You’ll see. Ask Chris Canaly about
zero tolerance for water greed.


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