Blue Mountain Arts Poetry Contest

Meditations on My Father I: Desert Sunset
by Leah Plath

Sixteenth Contest
SECOND Place

Desert sun sets burning red on rock and sand,
melting crimson, heat glazing his cheekbones.
Does he feel its warmth anew, now, knowing 
(because he does know)
few sunsets are left to him?

How few?

A wondrous pink sky, thin cloudwisps 
shadowed purple, gold-lit from underneath.
From the valley, the mountains wrap brown harsh-rasp stone arms
enclosing, protecting, reaching around him.
The dusk air hums, sunwarmed, 
simmering over the rooftop 
where he sits, leaning back,
speckled hands closed gingerly around the chair arms,
translucent skin and fine bird bones.

But he is not really this frail image that hollows out my heart.

He is the rushing roaring river,
a deep-throated laugh tumbling across rocks, white-flecked 
foam spray, or the desert wind rushing dry 
past cactus flowers, 
whispering crimson sun dusk promises,
a force eternal.

In the red lightwash of sunset, the colors seep into his bones 
like dye, blood running with rich ochre, mauve, and bronze.
In the humming dusk, he closes his eyes and listens 
to the stars.