| TRAVEL |

...This moment. I track it
through a thick
and brittle-barked country,
pink dust-miles covering my shoes.
At dusk the heat sinks beneath
redstone, touching crepuscular nerves
into emergence. Bats trill,
lace the windburn
with a pilgrimage of their own:
doubles of sound chirping back
from fiery canyon walls...

From 'Return to Grand Canyon"
by Maya Khosla

© 2005 Frank Fillmann