The swirl of a hoop
The images emerge
Native to this land
Man and nature converge

A river runs through it
A canyon so Grand
A condor soars above
Only tears will understand

Mystical red rock
Where a vortex is found
The San Francisco Peaks
Sacred Ground

If you squint towards the horizon
Where sky meets land
A desert appears softly
Painted by the wind’s hand

The forest once stood here
Thousands of years before
Petrified and buried
Its inhabitants entombed in lore

Cowboys and Indians
A landscape for the silver screen
John Wayne once slept here
A point in space where four convene

High country sky dark and deep
Connects our world with time
The same stars the ancients viewed
Carved in rock, a picture left behind

I will be lost forever in this place
Wandering its hills
Returning over and over
Until my soul fulfilled