Monument Valley

Photos by Chef Crank Photography

By Terri Winder

The color of evening

Splashed across the sandstone monuments,

A fuel to be ignited

By the fire of a setting sun.

I watch enchanted with the glory

Before and on me.

I am rooted to the desert floor.

The sand presses my feet to hold me

As it has held the millennial rock.

The still air carries no sound to hurry time.

The Ancient Ones are gone.

The Spanish Conquerors are gone.

The Pioneer Wagon wheel tracks of yester-year

Are erased by the wind

As surely as yesterday tracks

of horse and sheep hooves.

Closing my eyes, the images dance

Against my eyelids

Then fade into darkness
As night creeps across the desert.