PREMIUM FEATURE
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The trunks and limbs heavy with resin look polished,
Smooth to a caressing touch or embrace,
Stimulating feelings into the nature of things,
Triggering thoughts of surface textures, of color-light, form and tension.
Bristlecone Pines don’t decay...they erode like stone.
Astonishing! Yellows, greys.
Their scattered fragments, eternal spirit shapes, seem planted,
Alive and whole with shadows and scents of pine.

Arches National Monument is a place where I once lived,
painting out of doors with a spectacular view of
Mountain La Sal and the Arches.
There were always furrows, storms, snakes, dinosaur bones,
pot shards, new arches, rocks, the sun,
pictorially real and other real adventures.
I ventured over the old and new roads, trails,
sensing and knowing new idioms and aims,
exhilarated by my prospective Rivertrip-
My intentions, not yet disclosed...