South Rim North Face

I'm going to get a new subject or an old one back. All my poems are about him anyway, And my poetry group might like to see something light out of me. So maybe we could fall in love again. We could descend together once more into the canyon from the south rim, deceptively easy and peaceful on the descent, the return trip much, much the more difficult. You could tell me again of your adventure that summer when your friend slipped and you saved his life with a twig and a prayer. And we could drive again over the Rockies, My stomach rising with the altitude until it is at my throat at 14,000 cold feet in August, glaciers of black ice, never thawed in thousands of years contrast with our rented Ford Taurus. In that place time changes nothing. Down below, the only thing certain is change.