what place, too big,
tickling the sky
and inviting hell
to come through
the crack in the low low
river bed.
you belong among the wildflowers.
what past forgotten
by beauty,
stolen by gun metal
but saved under blue sky
painted with pine trees.
you belong among the wildflowers.
what witnesses the changing seasons more
than me and my footsteps,
just as impressions
wiped away by wind
and wolves.
you belong among the wildflowers.
what terribly lovely earth,
shared with noises gallore
and silent mountains,
save for the avalanches
over graves gifted to us.