This poem came from the June 3, 2014 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired and sponsored by Anthony & Shirley Barrette. It also fills the "Winter Feasts / Summer Barbecues and Picnics" square in my 6-1-14 card for the Genprompt Bingo fest. You can explore the Grand Canyon online.
The first time we saw it,
the Grand Canyon
took our breath away,
red cliffs streaked with gold
and far below,
almost out of sight,
a ribbon of blue river
glinting in the sun.
The air smelled of hot sand
and bruised sagebrush;
somewhere a grill was going,
sweet with the scent of barbecue.
When we went to the visitor center,
tangy banjo music spilled out,
and there were all kinds of maps
for us to choose from.
We hiked a little way down
Bright Angel Trail together,
then stopped and shared
a picnic lunch beside the trail.
Dad went on downward,
while Mom and I hiked up;
despite the maps, he got lost,
but found his way back on his own.
We never got tired of looking at it,
a river in time slowly sawing down
through the rocks of ages, carving
hidden bones from the darkness.
I never get tired of remembering it,
deep furrow in flat desert
enclosing us, our mingled voices
bouncing between the bright stones.