It has been 58 weeks of walking on nearby trails looking for sanity, hope, and health. This path took us to Aztec Ruins, where the Ancestral Puebloans settled in the 12th century. This spring’s new green around the ancient walls served as a reminder to walk on and look forward even while we honor the past. Spring is back, summer is soon to follow. The cycle of the earth continues. So will we.

We’ve been walking by this rock almost every day for a while now. Last week, I decided it looked familiar. Bronze and stone sculptures shaped like big eggs, sometimes with cracks in them. Hmm.  Brancusi! The Romanian sculptor made a big impression on me when I saw an exhibit of his work at the Chicago Art Institute when I was a teenager. Brancusi appears to be with me still, even across decades and many miles. I was young and falling in love with art. Something in those sculptures mesmerized me. Now here he is again, on a high desert trail reaching out to me. What’s the message?  Maybe–get back to your writing work. You’re burning daylight.

   I  planted  my poem “Contact Tracing” on one of our favorite hiking trails this week. Paper, no plastic involved, so maybe the wind will blow it away, or better yet, the fox will get it. This was in response to an invitation from New Mexico poet Miriam Sagan and Bill Waters of Poetry in Public Places to participate in a Poetry Pop-up Party.

Contact Tracing

The hawk rides the thermals

above the sandy trail

where a horned toad bakes in the spring sunshine

under the blooming yucca cactus

across the trail from the red globe mallow in bloom.

A bit farther down, paw prints from the fox.

When your boot crunches on the trail

between the yucca and the globe mallow

next to the fox prints,

you have touched the hawk,

so soar and play in the high breeze

on this bright blue April day.