My shoes are heavy. This backpack doesn t even a hold a book. These are my feet walking the watertrail. These are my ankles in Paria snowmelt. These are my calves caked with wet sand.
Partridges run up ahead where the canyon begins to widen.
A deer passes as I sit idle at midday admiring all around me. I waken at night to gaze at the unseen hand of stars directly above the bend in the river where I camp the first night. A bent cottonwood glows with light-struck new leaves. Spits of sandbars embrace the grass of all they renunciate. They left petroglyphs to guide others near Echo Peaks.