Our last morning there
among the red rocks and soil,
we made a final stop
at Crescent Moon State Park.
We sat in the car, we four,
waiting for the rain to pass.
Finally, one of my aunts
tied a grocery bag over her head
and stepped into the fading drizzle.
The fog hung picture perfect over the rocks overhead
as we made our way down the path,
deserted other than us,
everyone else chased away by the rain.
Feeling our time grow short,
we hurried toward the gush of water
I could hear in the distance.
One by one, they appeared along the trail;
smooth stones stacked in piles,
some pyramid-shaped, some inverted.
I wondered who would take the time
to find such perfect rocks and balance them so.
Then we came upon our destination,
where you could barely walk,
the stacks of stones
so thick on the ground.
Standing there, the rain speckling my glasses,
I could understand wanting
to be a part, make a mark,
create such aching beauty.
And I smiled.