Friday, May 4, 2007
Paria Canyon (3 days, 1996: river walking cadence)
Walls, walls, darkened walls-
Sandstone calls, dim light falls.
I feel those walls, I hear the calls;
While my gait sprawls, I tread these halls.
Spring, spring, spring’s the thing-
Footprints sing, emotions ring,
Spirits wing, senses fling;
All hearts can sing, in days of Spring.
Hear, hear canyons near!
Tan streams leer, but all is clear,
No pitfalls mere can soon appear;
Soft winds rear, near Red Rocks dear.
Flow, flow, I hear the flow;
Breeze in tow, ripples go
To that faint glow, so far below-
Spirits low reap what they sow.
Stay, stay, O canyons gay!
Enjoy the day, inspire the stay;
Enjoin me, pray, do not delay!
Moderate Life’s fray, in Months of May!
Peace, peace, Feel the Peace-
Though canyons cease, hatreds ease,
Life’s new lease, like Autumn geese,
Like new-washed fleece, has brought release!
Harold L. Overton
Rejoinder by Glenn Wasson, later in 1996
Heed. Heed, I need to read
My companion’s words on thought and deed,
That plant within my brain a seed
And from it fleeting thoughts are freed.
Moans, Moans, I can’t match those Overtones
Which write of walls in vivid tones,
And rivers rippling over stones-
Whose like, no mortal man disowns.
Walls, Walls, enclosing halls,
Where seldom ever sunlight falls
And endless beauty there befalls-
Best to avoid during summer squalls!
Shame, Shame, I lose the game-
Poetry fails; my brain’s to blame;
Literary honors I may claim-
But the Muse within me never came!
The plodding Poet- Glenn Wasson