Visions of the Rio Grande
By Forrest N. Getz
Upon this thawing land I set my feet,
My eyes rest on the horizon,
As if it held my future hidden,
I grit my gloved hand,
In thought of snow and sun.
I am here, for reason I wonder,
And, this land, we share in some way,
With the mighty Rio Grande,
With the blowing wind,
With the snow of deep and white,
With the sun blistering down,
And the mountain fostering us.
The Rio roars, but subdued,
By harsh ice and snow,
The wind plays gleefully,
Over the battling water and ice,
The sun watches like a proud father,
Those below are woven from the shadow and light,
The wind becomes jaded, and fades to naught,
All under the vigilant eye of the mountain.
My youthful body seems unaware,
Of the power of the mountain,
But I am a weak player in the plot of things,
And the mountain lets me frolic,
Like one of her children.
My ear finds the roaring Rio,
The ice and snow chill my spine,
The wind touches my cheek in a kind gesture,
As I watch the war between ice and water,
The sun warms me with radiance,
I too, am woven from shadow and sunlight,
The wind is jaded, and so am I,
And the mountain watches me home.
This is my home, amid this weakening turmoil
I am thrown out into the plot of,
With the buried cinquefoil,
And the golden eagle above.
Forrest’s poem was first published in “A Walk Along the River, A Literary Anthology From the Upper Rio Grande” ©2006
