Canyon Winds

Naked winds, blowing bristly bear hair,

baring bare babes aloft,

borne of aeries howling crags.

Butte,

the valley, her gift, on wings still wet,

flew.

Undulations, oscillating, convect.

Holding out thin frail arms.

Skin stretched taught

pushing invisible phantoms below it,

'til the unimaginable gulf can be measured.

© Michael Mosher 2010