A spring walk across the canyon
energizes my obsession for life.
Could the Red Tail Hawk 
gliding through tall cedars and pines
be aware of the surrounding beauty 
which enthralls and possesses my spirit.
I watch the smooth grace of flight, 
his observing nature 
and wonder if appreciation or marvel exist
for fluffy white clouds, 
floating as evanescent dreams
or the mantle of emerald green moss 
covering limestone cliffs
interlaced with fingers of ferns, 
for the crystal creek below 
winding its way through the canyon
laughing, as it creates it's own symphony of music
escaping in joyous abandon to the river beyond.
I sit, laying upon my back 
to listen, to daydream, to wonder
the molecules of my body 
becoming a part of the ground,
learning the language of the wildflowers 
as they dance a slow waltz
in the warmth of the first sunny spring day.
Floating, escaping my body, 
I mingle with the clouds, 
feeling the substance of dreams,
believing this legacy of the earth 
though taken for granted
to be the greatest gift
to my life and all life 
that ever existed.
Perhaps the hawk glides above, 
wondering of me.