Categories
2019 American Place Garden Psalms Poems

Echo

Whatever I say, repeats itself.
“Hello!” Hello, Hello, hello…
As my eyes roll over her curves
Arching over me, bending in
Streaks of red and yellow
Broken finally by azure
Sky that offers the only light
Inside this giant bowl dome.
A cathedral, a great place to
hear the violin or guitar. A
Symphony or maybe quartet?
If you sing the canyon songs
You are blessed with a chorus
Of your own voices from
The echo chamber.
“Clouds, oh clouds, speak to me…”

By Makar

Stephen Sutherlin is a designer, poet and musician. He writes poetry about life in the southwest and enjoys metrical lyricism.

Leave a Reply