A million years upon its course
the river flowed relentlessly;
it conquered all adversity.
How vain to think I stand prepared
to view the wonder Nature wrought —
this canyon in the making lies
beyond the grasp of finite thought.
Stretched rim to rim, it yet remains
a speck beneath the firmament.
Examining such depth, I feel
my smallness to its full extent.
I search my vocal repertoire,
superlatives exhausted now,
as from two lips that drip with awe
escapes a feeble whispered, “Wow.”
Having seen it only through the eyes of a child with my family in the mid-1950’s, I was privileged to return to the Grand Canyon in 1998 with family-by-choice, Bubba & Joyce. We made a large circle through the western states to visit in person with some of the honorary “cousins” of P.O.E.M.S., an online poetry group I hosted between 1996 and 2003. It was an unforgettable experience on both counts.