Pagosa Poetry

Six a.m. walk around the Taylor Lane Loop

White belts of clouds blankets two valleys

the sun cracking just above.

A hawk calls, elks bugle and a cow sounds its one note horn.

I unbury my fingers from my sleeve to capture a picture of 

purple wildflowers and another when yellow appears and a pop of red.

Then another when violet climbs into the mix.

Gray birds still on the fence transform to bright blue when they fly

and a dozen geese gathered in the field are hidden when I turn to look back.