The Painted Desert

Overwhelmed ...
I gasp.

Eyes fully opened wide.
Before me ... thousands
of multi-colored dunes.

Little sand mountains.

Vivid and rich pallet of powdered pigment.

Red, orange, purple, pink,
beige, black, white, brown,
blue, yellow, turquoise, green.

Countless hues overpowering human senses.

And perfectly arched across the rainy sky,
dual concentric rainbows
nest together in brilliant array,
like mirrored reflections.

Eagle spirals into the west ...
as evening comes.

Night smells moist of distant rain.

I dream of other worlds.

Before dawn, the throb of drums.

Shaman chant.

Rhythmic blessings of Mother Earth.

First rays of light
surrounding woven baskets
of brilliant cystal grain.

Handful Of Black Sand,
down upon his knees
unfolding from inside out
the circle of light.

Throughout the day
he pours from the bottom
of his fists, the tiny stream
of colored sands,
a wheel of intricate, stark,
organic simplicity.

He paints not the things which are
but that which is behind them.

Aftenoon gives space
to those who came to see.

Tourists euuuu and aaaah
for at least a photograph.
Rather to buy and fix forever
in clear acrylic,
upon the wall.

The shaman only smiles,
“not for sale.”

Disappointment fills the crowd.
None can understand.

Last rays of Sun extinguish in the west,
Thundering Shout rubs out his art
from the center outward
with circular sweeps
of arms and hands.

“Tomorrow ...
is another day.”