Saturday, February 25, 2012


The first time Sarah
Got out of the car
To study the ground
For rocks, we were here
Near Factory Butte.

She moved like a bird,
Like a sandpiper,
Over what had been
Shore epochs ago,
Stalking her quarry.

We've carried the rocks
In my car, our truck
Almost four years now.
I can't picture them.
I still picture her

Scrutinizing them,
Revealing herself
To me the first time,
Today as I watch
Our toddling daughter

Not fifteen months old,
Scrutinize what looks
Like pure sand to me,
And pick out chert, shells,
Basalt, memory.

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