Early morning sun shafts spike through mountain peaks lighting up the haloed prickly pear and stately saguaro, while wisps of pink clouds on a blue backdrop angle away and south to where the sky is not yet ready for day.
I find myself pausing more than walking,
Listening more than thinking,
Seeing more than watching, and...
Feeling more than usual.
Being careful not to tumble small rocks in my path or brush the prickly branch of the Foothill Palo Verde, I look for new experiences. The color of light as it dances through a Chuparosa bush, the song of a sage thrasher and smell of the dew moistened desert mountain floor elevate my spirits.
I find myself wishing more than dreaming,
Leaving footprints rather than words,
Being more random than focused,
Feeling more alive than usual.
Perched on a grainy lichen-colored boulder, I watch the sun warm the desert floor, lighting its path with yellow brittlebush. I wish that I were all of us so that we could embrace this moment as one. We could hear, see, feel, smell and be together as this rather normal dawn renews its world.
We would feel more peaceful than angry
Hear more than one heart beating,
See more than our reflection.
We would feel more than usual.
Editor’s Note: Bob Frost has been Scottsdale’s Poet Laureate since 2010. Mr. Frost, a Scottsdale resident, is ready to become the city’s first poet laureate emeritus. As he transitions to this position, Scottsdale seeks a new poet laureate.