"Join hands, circle left, let’s begin this song,"
In the valley where Flatirons stand strong.
A Chautauqua garden, where joy takes root,
Square dancers gather in plaid and boots.
Men in white hats, spurs that gleam bright,
Women in flowing skirts, a colorful sight.
"Allemande left, then do-si-do,"
The caller’s voice leads, steady and slow.
In the warm afternoon, they twirl with grace,
Laughter and music filling the space.
Clouds start to gather, the sky turns gray,
Sprinkles of rain join the dance play.
But diehard dancers keep spinning around,
"Promenade home, feet on the ground."
Raindrops cool, a refreshing delight,
As boots splash in puddles, hearts take flight.
Brief is the shower, the skies soon clear,
A rainbow appears, the air fresh and dear.
Birds start chattering in spruce tree nests,
The creek overflows, nature at its best.
Wilted flowers rise, petals open wide,
Square dancing continues, joy as their guide.
"Swing your partner, round you go,"
In this garden, where love and nature flow.
Face of the Flatirons mountain range
Awakens
To the pre-dawn of the Colorado sun
A charcoal sketch
Scribbled to life from a meadow of pale paper
I wade waist-high in the waving grasslands
A whale watcher
There! There!
Gray humpbacks
Arched and
Breaking the blue surf of clouds and sky
The breach
A union of silence
Between Soul and God
I on the outside
The universe within
I was the mystery
Riding the mountain.