Spring 2016 (June 1, 2016)

Apocraphy

May 2, 2016
By Alexander Leben Morris

Sage brush breeze sways over the boulders
and bends a savory blend of scents in gray-green hues.
Alpine apsens stare through knot-tied eyes, their veiny
branches blinking in the wind like fresh kindling
for the crisp thin air’s aural affair.

Grand mountains muster greater gusts upon their
snow-capped shoulders, sharp ridges roar before
rumbling low, descending down below
to dawn the valley her visceral voice.

Listen closely to the ground and hear them moan,
the Teton crest is croaning through the morning brush.

Arid greens shunt sorrel steam, caught
shimmering in the sun beams the breeze
gleams towards the horizon as the hills hum.

The restless air is ripened with a swelling spice
that stripes these silent wheat fields, gold crowns
glistening with scented sounds that blow
upon the compound Earth to turn anew in
the vast blue medium that resounds.