Ambient Light

Nightfall in Bryce Canyon
unveils a 7.3 magnitude sky,
darker than anywhere
else in North America.

From here,
we gaze millions of light years
into the past.

We memorize the Milky Way, imprint
its studded arc on translucent lids,
capture night behind our veiled eyes.

In Zion, beneath red walls
rising sheer from the river bed,
the Virgin endlessly
tends the stone.

She has molded an oasis
attracting wildlife, songbirds
and millions of tourists
who recreate the very city
we are trying to leave behind.

We trade free dominion to preserve
the canyon, herd onto a shuttle bound
for The Temple of Sinawava,
where we slowly disembark
and shuffle the trail to the Narrows

behind the crowd we rode in with.

When we were young,
we drenched our feet here,
felt small and sacred beneath
these cathedral walls.