North Valley Cathedral
The North Valley once known for open space
from Peavine to the Antelope Valley
where smaller birds gather and rally
before a bird of prey swoops down with grace.
Now space is filled with tract homes on the hill
surrounding older neighbors property
enough commotion to make Sage Grouse flee
to push the desert line against its will.
There is a need to live on native land
where shrubs and flowers named for local tribes
scatter along natures preplanned landscapes.
We need to see a world we cannot command
amongst construction crews loose diatribes
alone each block lie homes of altered shapes.
Every living area needs a park
a reminder we live on planet Earth
a plot of native land that knows its worth
to step onto the world when times are stark.
My little valley offers such a place
a series of connected trails appear
whose end is far and beginning is near
a slower walk than an endless footrace.
Here is praise to those who understand this need
a morning walk upon natural world
to ground oneself while climbing to a peak.
Where footfall is the only sign of greed
the hum of breath and beat of head are curled
around the gnarled sagebrush where Wren still speak.
To right of path a boulder cathedral
or so I call this with my frozen breath
each forward step followed by footprint death
this formation of stone Dali’s easel.
An icy December breeze falls on nose
in morning when the sun begins to rise
to feel the sun from ridge my only prize
while bundled tightly in my winter cloths.
An unidentified bird of prey glides
awhile upon the crest of morning air
a long wingspan choreographed with chill.
This wind by rocks where memory resides
where creatures on the land will run and dare
this majestic hunters iron hard will.