There are so many goodbyes.
I watched the last rains of the monsoon emerse themselves in me. The clouds that bore them dispersed in whispers of seasonal wind. It will be a year before new ones return.
Another family arrives. They galavant along my shores, take their photos, and then leave me, like all the others do. Sometimes the elk take their sips from me when the visitors are here. Most of the time, they come as the sun dips below the canyon walls.
I remember when the canyon was flat land. I said goodbye to each parcel of earth I carved as I ran. I still remember each of them. And yet, somewhere ahead lies the Colorado river. And so, somewhere ahead there are even more visitors. And goodbyes.
I dreamed I was the moon, and nothing else mattered until I woke up.
for dVerse Poets’ Prosery #2 (pubtended by Sarah). The pub is open. Come join us!
Frank J. Tassone 
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