He walks slowly near to the canyon’s edge,
Sees a lone lizard tiptoe on burning rocks, and
Birds alight from afternoon blue freedom
Circling waterfall cirque nests before landing.
Hot afternoon updrafts carry his weathered soul
High overhead the snaking river,
So many years of meandering water
Carving white esses in desert brown walls,
Walls painted in petroglyph red honor
Of those who walked near to the canyon, and
Breathed basalt Idaho Indian fires.
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