cage match between
excitement
    and sense of place
clothed in atmosphere
wrapped in the ***** I feel, I feel
sensation - wonderfully dizzying
in the gentle rocking of mother universe
the evening waves
the off-color tall grasses leaning back and forth
sipping a drink-drink
lined with the salt of the earth
permeating cells
toxins in body and mind start to leave
shoulders relax to softer tones
posture realigns to beauty

Space time stretches
Each spring
Days get longer
Morning illuminates
Neighbors walk their dog in pajamas
And all rush off
With no time to spare

the mysterious roar of colorado winter winds
shhhh-es through wool fibers of your beanie
providing deafness to all other sounds
ill-suited as anything
other than the predominant sensation
it is
indescribable nothingness and purity
upending curbside trash receptacles
creating ice walls of former snowfalls
and tears in the eyes of you and your dog
smeared cloud formations set against
the ethereal cerulean hum-glow clearings
cutting its perspective
into a day’s agenda
and while taking refuge
in robust shelters
it howls out reminders of its presence

my voice wasn’t whispered to me
I didn’t learn to think from the professor of moby ****
I hit my head on saint paul’s contentment
upended in reflection
hours upon hours taking in the sky
and more hours
cerulean shaded ethereal hum-glow
to the duration of substance
until discernment was properly cut through
like forgetting unimportant events
until I was surrounded by gifts
no longer standing at an entryway
but spinning and somersaulting in the waves

remembering a high school photography teacher
teaching that it doesn't matter
that a similar photo had been done before
what matters is that I have not done it before

with that in mind
I went on a break of day hike
carrying as much concern for originality
as a grasshopper
or Shakespeare

to the top of the Boulder flatirons
approaching from the east
arriving at a rocky cliff
of the same flat sandstone rock
that the flatirons themselves were forged
where a bench had been constructed
from dozens of stone pieces
tucked into the cliff
with still enough distance from civilization
that one could only hear the faintest siren
positioned to receive the mid-morning sun
I accepted the invitation
to recline and relax my eyes
to consider
the collection
of other high school lessons
most of a training to perpetual middle-class non-identity
but occasionally
something worth remembering