On Mesa's Edge

On Mesa's Edge

On mesa's edge, above Thoreau

I sat a while and thought of you

amongst the scattered piñon trees

in lightly blowing western breeze.

I sat a while and thought of you

no words to say, not much to do

Me sitting here, you laying there

I hoped you knew how much we care.

I looked around and saw rocks there

flat and long and grey and bare

and stacked them in a little pile

dark patches growing all the while

On limestone slab, I carved your name

in letters deep and hard and plain

A hundred years, maybe three (or two?)

on mesa's edge to speak of you.

So we pass on while rocks remain,

We feel joy and loss and pain,

while rocks remain to show we cared

all stacked together, piled there

I wonder if you come to sit

on mesa's edge, out near the lip

bathed in warm glow of setting sun

this life complete, the next begun

The eagles nest below you there

borne, like thoughts, by drafts of air

Do you, like eagle, soar above

look down on us and sense our love?

A year has passed, a year you're gone

it feels like maybe twice that long

We stayed behind, on earth, below

while you soared on in sunset's glow.

You started early on that trip

You let go while we still grip

I wonder if you wait on ledge

of mesa's top, out near the edge.