WAKING UP IN MOAB

October 07, 2014  •  Leave a Comment

DISAPPEARING-ANGEL-ABSTRACTDISAPPEARING ANGEL

 

WAKING UP IN MOAB

 

Rising Sun turns on the reading lamp in her library of fresh-snowed Book Cliffs.

Redrock Rim throws back damp covers from last night’s wet dream.

Lions Back yawns and growls her morning breath - all that remains of her late night prowl.

Seven Mile rubs his eyes, clears the sky, turns up the heat, then stands over the vent of blue while listening to the news on KZMU.

Arches N. Park bumps and stumbles through pre-dawn shadows peeking through the Windows in her bedroom, searching for her spectacles.

The La Sals shuffle in and out of the shower, white-tabled toes poking out from under their robes.

Rabbit Brush, Globe Mallow, and a few of the Purple Asters gather around town, sip full cups of the morning’s dark roast of desert rain.

Gustav Wind stirs up oatmealed crusts in potholes, adds dusted-blue juniper berries and a skitter of scrub oak leaves.

Disappearing Angel steps into her stiff Wingate gown with the slip of first light, powders her Chinle, heads south to work.


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