Thursday, October 5, 2006

The Apache Trail






                                      The Apache Trail

Lore and legend cloak canyon walls with an air of mystery

Sheer cliffs of stark grandeur careen toward peacefulrivers

 Silent breezes are accented by cries from soaring hawks

We envy their freedom to view this world from a unique vantage

 Boulders balanced upon tenuous perches as though placed there by playful hands

Spires and minarets of sandstone by no accident call to mind holy places

Lakes of unfathomed depth keep secret the hidden vista below

 Each mile is given to us as a gift revealed as we venture on

Dizzying heights give way to peaceful meadows, our senses are assailed by what unfolds before us

Layers of time are seen in ageless formations

Cactus basks beneath the broiling sun luxuriating in the nourishing heat

Storm clouds sneak in unnoticed by enthralled travelers

 The sky darkens to rich gray hues, a deep growl of thunder echoes followed by unleashed streaks of lightening splitting the boiling clouds

The hawk dives for cover sensing what is to come

Monsoon rains fall fast and hard upon the arid landscape

The sand drinks 'til sated then rejects the leftovers filling once dry washes and gulches as waters stampede to lower points

 Rocks with eons old addresses move with the torrential onslaught seeking relocation

As quickly as the storm enters, it vanishes as the clouds are tossed aside by the jealous sun, eager to retake his domain

The hawk shakes and preens droplets from his feathers, then leaps joyously forth to survey the changes

Catching a current, he ascends smoothly, dipping and gliding his dance beneath the sun

Reaching a rise, we pause to survey the panoramic wonder spread before us

Our eyes try to reject the reality of such contradiction

Green, brown, blue and purple assault our senses in a riotous ballet of colors

Moving on, we see scorched ground which bespeaks a bygone day when hellish blazes charred the already arid earth

Tiny shoots of infant cacti pierce the sand refusing to concede defeat

Weary and dusty we come upon man's imposition on the land

 Rising from the depth of a canyon, steel and concrete seems alien in these surroundings, daring to ration water to the valleys below.

Exhilaration is felt as we reach trails end, yet the lore and legend beckons our return

Our spirits are lifted, our souls have been nourished

©1999-2007 Laura Aden