Colorado in Summer

Colorado in Summer

Watershed sprouts pine valley forest. I drink deep cool draughts of alpine air. Beaver’s collection of wooden earth hair creates lake of lover’s dreams. We follow the trickle of melted ice up into realms of light and ice. Each step takes us higher into a sacred valley of the earth mother’s tears. The leader and I talk of a holy city which lies just beyond the horizon. There people share bread and kisses in communion with each other. Soon a lacey meadow of snow opens up like a maiden’s hand to welcome us. Our traveling guide tells us, “You know I just love being here with you guys.” We sit like monks under the quiet sky. A few of our party venture further up the breast of Gaia. We find nymphs huddled above the silver powder. My boyish eyes are painted by their vision of the sacred feminine. We retreat to the Himalayan holy ground. My sad young truth blossoms into a hermitage of the heart.