because i think arizona is a love letter from god
i think it was designed this way, he says, though some people don’t believe that.
i can’t disagree with him
as i look up the canyon walls to the sky
that everyone pictures when they hear the word “arizona.”
god didn’t paint these mountains tan because he
had run out of green.
the occasional splash of purple, red, and
burst out of the quieter tones of rocks and earth
with a vividness that does nothing but
declare his glory
in the expanse of land where
is a pure miracle.
it’s impossible to ask for more beauty
than the colors
hidden to most stranger’s imaginations
beneath the layers of piercing blue
the colors at the bottom of the mountains where
the water hides under bright green trees
and birds and lizards thrive.
the flowers are so bright right now;
the base of the superstitions are nothing but
a sea of yellow
i want to go to a million different places,
leaving a piece of my
heart in each one,
but this will always be