Open Book
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3.21.02
"He looks like God!" she said,
when M showed her this picture.
That struck me as strange.
I thought God looked like
Spruce Mountain in the
Prescott National Forest
and red-rock monuments
jutting thousands of feet skyward
from the Utah desert floor
and the silver-lime color of
New Mexico sage
and the sputtering sparks of light in the
raging Crystal River
near Marble, Colorado
and the shifting pink glow on the
Topa Topa bluffs at Ojai
and the roaring ocean at night at
Torrey Pines and
Ventura State Beach
and Big Sur
and the soft colors in the
morning mist at La Bufadora
and the brilliant countless stars
over my sadly missed wilderness home
east of Santa Fe
and the Painted Desert
and painted skies
and deeply etched Colorado River canyons
and the view of the Channel Islands
through the mountain peaks
from the summit of Pine Mountain
60 miles distant
and the glint of light
we see in each other's eyes.
Didn't know God could look
like a person
and especially did not know that
God could look like me.
Moi?
In white Lee jeans and
cheap sandals?
Moi on the windswept
Monument Valley desert
at dusk.
© ken winston caine; all rights reserved