We've been flung out over water like skipping stones,
not on a lake or pond, but the long, wide, never ending
turquoise blue ocean of the Pacific, soaring in a metal
tube while everything that followed us arrived by barge
as these things do, back and forth to the blessed
Hawaiian islands, and it's a long, arduous journey
we have come to appreciate increasingly the further
away we are, and the more we settle our belongings,
the dogs likely forgetting soft green grass
and ocean sands, learning instead not to step
on cactus spines and various stickers, how to stand
back when a mountain lion appears out of the shadows
and they are keen on her scent, how to call for help
when there's a rattlesnake in their outdoor hay beds;

The paradox of this particular paradise is that we lead
runaway lives, one of us driving hours to and from work,
the other motoring miles just to obtain sustenance,
vast spaces ringed by mountain ranges ever in view,
endless open skies that become mirrors of oceans
in other worlds more our familiar, settling to sleep
with the sounds of elk chuffing and bugling
in the near distance, the soft hooting of an owl;
screech of some wildcat or a chorus of coyotes
is a sort of rapture, drawing us further away
from memories of other places and into the ground
of this high dry forest, and we settle like boulders
and sand after a monsoon flood, crashing over
whatever is in its path, be it a rusty old car
or the lone highway, and the stars! The closeness
of sky at nearly eight thousand feet altitude,
thin crispness of morning air as I step into boots,
don down and wool for our morning walk;

This is a land of juxtapositions, not the watercolor
wonder of the islands, harsh winds rather than soft
caressing breezes, near freezing mornings morphing
into blazing hot afternoons, cooling off again
in the evening for sleeping, dreaming, and the stark
pale moon rises as we gather into one another,
while the wild creatures cruise mountains and forests,
settling down for the night in trees or fields,
tucking tiny beaks into fluffed-out chest feathers
or huddling close as steam rises from warm bodies
attuned to imperceptible sounds and shifts in this
high desert landscape, and we have come to appreciate
a culture that celebrates white bones
and dancing skeletons, honoring death with as much
reverence as the abundant Hawaiian life, awakened
by fire and mellowing into golden sunset glows.

storm over Taos ~ bj 2023

Desert clouds ~ bj 2023

Sunset over Kohala ~ bj 2021