We need to cherish, to listen to the wisdom of the “Ancients,” As they listen to us. Bristlecone Pines don’t decay...they erode like stone. - Rita Deanin Abbey

My energies have always gone into making art rather than promoting it.

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...

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.