I have seen the moon rise while nestled in a sleeping bag on Lake Powell,
watched the sun set through a cabin window in Walnut Canyon.
I have bounced across the waves on the rock-hard bench of a Gregor,
thumped up and down on the seat of a Western saddle.
I have been warmed by the fiery evolution of leaves on the San Francisco Peaks,
chilled by the winds of a Flagstaff storm,
splashed by a yellow tail at the end of my line.
I have breathed the scent of Piñon pine burning in a chiminea,
inhaled green chiles roasting at the Plaza in Santa Fe.
I have been startled awake by a coyote’s yip,
lulled to sleep by water lapping on the sides of a boat.
I have been wowed by the gold of New Mexico’s Chamisa,
enchanted by the fierce blue sky above the Sangre de Cristos,
the blending of earth, wood, and stone in your brown eyes.
Because I met you, I have discovered my prime meridian,
my 0 degrees,
a line connecting all that is
and all that will be.
© by Donna Pflueger.
Used with the author’s permission.