Driving into Cimarron Canyon

On my 10th hour driving to Taos

I finally enter the best part of the trip--

driving into Cimarron Canyon at sunset.

What they say about the colors

of New Mexico are true. The pinks, purples, blues...

O'Keeffe recognized the pallet

and she made her own paint to portray.

The sky was a pink mist raining down stars

the size of dust motes

I felt a buzz on my skin electric

listening to a Fleetwood Mac song

Crystal, the same song I have sung for 40 years,

sang to my first granddaughter, a lullaby

to myself when I felt too alone. A song of want,

a song of completion.

It never occurred to me, this song, an augury

that I came to divine-- I had arrived to own myself

to cast a look back to her in a mirror, that 17 year-old

who didn't know anything but love as out of reach,

that 17 year-old buried deep inside. I played the song

again and again

as the sun set I sang out loud driving into the west,

on the horizon the canyon.