Reunion Number Twelve Poem by Bill Galvin

Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park, northern AZ

I release myself from mountain and river embrace
And drive from Colorado to north central Arizona
Through the Four Corners area
Beside long mesas; isolated high desert country
Of the Colorado Plateau shrub lands.
People and livestock are both sparse
On a desolate landscape
Where even shrub bushes are small and thirsty.

In Navajo territory earth turns from brown to red;
And the red dust is fine enough to find its way
Into everything, even though closed and shut.
Many small dust devils spin across the flats,
And sometimes we are timed so well that I drive
Through them as they cross the road.

Deb and I came here twice and were enthralled
At the magnificence and uniqueness
Of these stratified sandstone buttes,
Some towering 1000 feet over the valley floor.
Deb’s favorite rock formation sits ahead of me
As I drive the Park’s scenic dirt road:
“The Three Sisters”. She loved it;
To Deb, it reminded her of her own three sisters.

It is windy, mild in the 70s, sunny, and dusty.
I park the car at a Three Sisters overlook,
And open the windows a bit to cool the car.
I get out, a pinch of your locks between my fingers
To let them scatter and fly amongst the red dust
That is emblematic of this eternal erosion.
A great gust then comes from the direction
Of the Sisters. Is it any wonder?
Just kidding, Ladies.

The gust causes her locks to ripple around me
Before leaving, and part hits me in the face.
I had heard about laughing and crying
At the same time, but never experienced it.
Well, here it was. My immediate assumption
Was Deb wanted to kiss me on the cheek
Before taking off with the winds;
Laughing/crying… I stand there happy/sad…
She is gliding away to the shifting sands of time.

I get back in the car, and meditate a moment.
I hear women laughing. There is no one around.
I hear them laughing louder… then, with a smile,
I close the windows … that’s quite enough, Ladies.

3-31-2015