Beads glistened down his bare arms
As he walked eastward, towards the sun,
Its rays just the warmth he needed
On this chilly morning; autumn has begun
And it’s summer’s last hurrah before
The cold spell starts its long run!
Mid-morning, he reached the canyon’s rim;
Over the edge he stared down the abyss,
At the chasm’s walls; rust-colored rocks
That the early morning sun gently kissed;
And he gazed at the gigantic gorge crafted
By an almighty with such a powerful fist!
Awe-struck he stood, the sheer magnitude
Of the monumental rift in the earth’s crust
Even the mid-day sun reaches not its floor...
Its barren beauty, the stuff of fairy dust!
Timidly he leaned over the stony ledge, and
Looked down; hoping his senses he can trust
Down below the orange-red and ochre walls
A mighty river flows towards a sea unseen
White-water on rapids; it snakes through
Ancient water-carved rocks; staying between
Towering cliffs, winding for miles and miles
Until the earth meets the heavens serene!
And then he gazed at the plateau around him
An otherworldly scene takes his breath away
Its stark and barren beauty, clean and pure
The air fresh, undiluted, no sign of decay
Unlike the urban jungle from whence he came
Where any measure of filth ever on display!
© Vic Evora