The Stories of Stone

A lone rabbit like me, flees, when there’s too much company.

The lavish lizard, with his majestic onyx neck and stoic stripes, stops.

You don’t belong here, his eyes mean.

Brins Mesa — coastal landscape beside a tropical sea.

The tumbling of red rock

The 100-degree baking hot, iron oxide, by my side.

Red layers, made graciously from rivers depositing sandy sediments from mountains.

Scorched Trees, mask their inner rainbows

Charcoaled, amputated from man-made disaster.

What are humans after, besides reckless fires and unwieldy desires?

The healthier ones, you can see their inner scream

of hues, the reds and blues, bleeding.

White layers of wind-blown sand dunes

A modern Sahara desert.

They belong here. They’ve earned their coffin.

So does the urn, I discover filled with ashes

Remains perched inconspicuously amongst the windy white.

Death, at peace among the burned.

What have we learned, besides resiliency?

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