WEBVTT

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In this next poem we'll take
a little detour to Moab, Utah.

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And we'll be right near
the Colorado River,

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further up along its path.

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You'll also hear about
the Great Conjunction,

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which kind of came
up in the last poem,

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but where Jupiter and
Saturn came right together.

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December 2020.

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Dear--.

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Just past full dark
we drive the Canyon.

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The Colorado, a living
darkness on our right.

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Moab concealed from sight,
and cliffs ahead with Jupiter

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and Saturn sparkling above.

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Every day growing more
distant from one another.

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The thumb's breadth of
cobalt, infinitesimal compared

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to the journey between them.

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By an hour, I missed the Great
Conjunction, now a week past,

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walking out into the
half lit street in Tucson

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when they had dropped behind
the neighbor's mesquites.

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Nights of watching
them draw closer,

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and I missed that
double brightness

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washing dishes, or stirring
a pot fragrant with onions

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and spices.

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Nights have not been as cold
as I think they should be,

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but I can't call to memory
even one night a year past.

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How far then, the clear
desert cold of my childhood.

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The water I ran in the
sink or poured over lentils

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came from the river
we drive tonight.

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Moonlight racing us
on the water surface.

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All my life, this
river has sustained me.

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These currents pulsing
like veins in a wrist--

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tangled, delicate, ferocious.

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We drive the river highway.

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The moon, a frenzied
headlight at our backs,

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wild to pass us-- a
roar on the sandstone.

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On the river bank, snow caught
there, suspended in cold light,

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tasting it.

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