1/11/93- Hills

                                                        1/11/93
 
                         Hills
 
 
 This place
 It's dark frame worthy of museum placement
 In twilight as gold as it is green and gray
 
 The time
 Elements a patient sculptor without handtools, schedule
 Nature paints coats of sage and other brush strokes
 
 The sky
 Full of life even after dropping its payload
 My feet move across the palette mixing, mixing
 
 We reside within jewels on the folds of a robe
 The prints of steps of my kind and others
 Our waste and scent join the collage
 To see we are one with it
 
 This place
 These hills.