We’ve rambled west of Lone Pine into beige
and black mottled granite of Alabama
Hills, their massive boulders chiseled with age.
Stayed here too long perhaps, yet caught in drama
of moonrise lifting like a flaming soul
past Sierra Nevada’s towering
cliffs, encircled before us through glazed hole
of Mobius Arch, its might cowering
clouds away from its gaping mouth, in awe
of Orion guarding heaven’s great hound.
We kneel here, love, soon past winter’s frail thaw,
ignoring our rock-ribbed and night-chilled ground.
Stunned by your sky-caped form, I realize
I’m lost in starlight, deep blaze of your eyes.
Roger Armbrust
March 5, 2014
