Time and Motion and Space.
I told Barbara when I was a kid, we
used to throw rocks off the cliff edges at Acoma.
We were fascinated, because the falling of rock
seems to be something like stopping time.
It seems real and clear to you, then.
Time is so deep, phantomless,
and all the time that you can't pin it down at exact points,
nor with explanations, but being witness to fallen rock.
Time is tangible then.
It is a rock falling from the release of your hand,
moving into, through, down space to the ground
at bottom, cliff edge.
That's how you know then.
Time and motion and space, pine and fir, the wind,
lichen on sun-warmed rock erode below in the valley.
Voices of friends, ourselves--
"Pine song," she said.
"Butterfly comes by, and then be all dressed
in bright yellow and black.
This is the way it is.
I'm not just making it up."