I want to linger at the side of the road
where the dark birds sing into the eddies of dawn,
yes linger in the low-angled light, in the big-hearted shadow
that blankets this bend in the canyon. Though I have many
miles to drive before I arrive, let me stay here
a while beside the river, still for a willowy moment, the water
the only thing moving. How many landscapes do I pass
without meeting them? How many worlds do I miss
as I rush from one here to the next? Oh bless this
quiet, where there is no hum of highway, no rumble,
no center line, no blur. Why do I so seldom linger,
my bones full of rush and current. In this moment,
I remember how deeply I love the stillness of rocks
that haven’t moved for a thousand years, the calm
of the dirt that has nowhere, nowhere to go.
