Ghost Ranch
Sleeping in the Landscapes of O'Keffe After moonlit walks with sand in my feet I awoke to the sounds of scissortails Rolled out on the red dirt of the trail And breathed in fire and cotton clouds Not long for my senses to be aroused As a red ant frenzy organizes on the mound The silts and dirts shift as winds sound And humbles my spirit in the presence of art. It is easier to reflect on the past Than to absorb the present So lost in a moment that the moment is lost Grab that brush of fleeting thoughts And paint the landscape before it's tossed.