I walk and walk and walk.
Through scrub land and foothills, through the desert, into the arroyo, up into the high canyons
where palo verde accent the desert green with yellow blossoms

Slowly. In an attempt to memorize each step,
consider the existence of each lizard that skitters under rocks at my approach,
study the tall saguaro, the one that speaks to me in our silent language.

There are the Texas Canyon boulders that balance with delicate precision,
boulders upon boulders, the giants’ cairns.

There are the trees dead in the grasslands, choked dry

There is the agave, its flowers long ago spent, its seed heads crispy brown,
standing tall in the ruts of an abandoned road.

There is my reawakened respect for the western rattler,
most plentiful and most dangerous of Arizona snakes.

I watched it rise three feet and rattle like dried chimes,
then zip into the thick grasses of the arroyo.
Left me standing at the arroyo’s edge, breathless,
looking at the emptiness where it had flashed me warning.

There is wonder at my daily sightings of a mama and papa quail,
their brood of chicks darting like scattered billiards balls,
each pecking for seeds in the rocky soil.

On hot afternoons the adults settle upon the earth like ancient ocean puffer balls,
and keep watch over their babies tucked under a staghorn cholla, an unlikely nesting hideout.

There are only memories of the gray dove perched upon the adobe wall
and the Coopers hawk’s swoop from behind.
Memories of the clutch of talons,
the dove’s disappearance amidst an explosion of feathers.

I gathered feathers from the tiled porch for a week
while pondering the order, and disorder, of nature.

This is a rough land, yet it fits my temperament.

Its wildness is a comfort,
its unexpected lushness a gift,
its unrelenting demands a lesson in awareness,
its solitude a rarity,
its brilliant sun-drenched land a tonic,
its dark skies a reminder of the need for rest.

How old the land upon which I walk,
ancient volcanic rock cold upon the hot desert earth.
And fossils of trilobites and shark teeth document this land’s history, how amazing the story.

Billions of years of tiny changes.

And so I walk and walk, and walk more. Relentless.
And commit to memory what I see,
Reminders that though I leave, I will  return.