I arrived.
The sun’s soft etch changed everything.
The ruin of the aspen leaves
is most beautiful.
My eye tracked each falling.
Each landing.
What more wealth do I require?
No need to confess.
No greater solitude
for being—for being prayer.
The line of the mountain frays.
That is what I love.
The blending. The blur.
The rejoining.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney
Umflop 