Bells Canyon

Spirits in a forest.

The rain pours downward.

Do I take a step, or is this unknown?

Bells Canyon—not a course to be found.

My mutual approbation.

This sphere of light offers a ghostly hand.

The wind now shifts.

Eyes of the lost ignore the sleeping land.

What binds us together?

Perhaps Bells Canyon echoes the stories we tell?

A footstep lost, a footstep placed.

Where now do hearts dwell?

The seed under the mountain,

to keep the peace,

yet continues to grow among the eastern tide.

Rain flows in a downward spiral.

A mother's hand fuses with light.

I'll press onward and take flight.