I was thinking of creating a framed poem-picture for my sister-in-law to thank her for the hospitality in Tucson. What do you think of the combination below?
Sunsets are an Occasion
Horses carry us into the foothills,
nudging each other. An owl calls to us
from a highwire, trillish, frillish,
ruffled by height and fading light,
sharing his night story, tooting as the
sun teeters at the edge of rocky consequence.
Not all owls cry out at dusk. We are lucky.
Nobody fell off a horse. Certain times of day
reveal an orangeness. We gloam for an instant,
lifted by elevation, rising weightlessness, joy.
The owl is in love. Aren't we all? In love
with ourselves and the noises we make.
In love with each other because we have
vicinity in common, halfmoon concavity
of taking it all in so we can remember later.
Sunsets are an occasion for the terrain
to bless us with longevity, senectitude, uneven
line of the horizon, haloed light. We are still here.