Shapes and forms, indecipherable in the mist,
take shape and form when the storm clouds
blow away and the bashful sun throws its glow —
first here, then over there, and —
snow glistening on red rock,
tucked in the distant nooks and crannies.
Adjectives become meaningless and trite,
but still, you dig deep and words stumble
over your lips
leaving you breathless.
Ghosts of sirens call, leaving you entranced
and downright gobsmacked —
unable to avert your wondrous gaze,
the lemon sun stings your eyes —
taken in by the majesty of it all,
when you consider the
enormity of the thought that
these shapes and forms have
possessed this land for longer than forever.
With one glance, atheists become agnostic
and kneel at Cathedral Rock,
steeped in rusted-red and orange layers.
Bell Rock sits alone
enveloping its worshippers in its swirling vortex
blessing its believers with upward energy —
© Rosemarie D’Amico 2019