Wetlands next to the Verde River, Deadhorse State Park, Cottonwood AZ
This is a place before places. If I should disappear to dust, scatter me here. If I should condense to a point of bright light, then shine me here in the darkness. If you should find me wandering in the desert, direct me here. If I'm thirsty, remind me of this water. If I seek animals or birds, tell me of the beaver, otters, herons and snakes down next to the river. In summer if I'm overheated then lay me down in this shade. If in winter I am shivering then prop me against a bare cottonwood in the sun. If I'm lonely then send me to this solitude. If I'm social then send me to this solitude. If you see me tapping on my smart phone then throw it instantly into this mud. If I need a place to park my bicycle, wheel me here. To listen, to dream, to drift, to sing. Where wind can shelter sunlight. Snows on Mingus. If I'm hitching down a long road without a destination, drop me here. I'll unwrap the beaver fences from the bases of some trees to give them something to gnaw on and you'll have to forgive me for that. The smack of tail on still water at dusk rises and startles both the blue heron and me who turn our heads in unison toward it. The brown and golden reeds brush my palms like Maximus. If it appears the ground breathes at the sound of the running water it does. Scatter me here, I run on air.