Three flying saucers hovered
in front of the big pine outside the porch.
“Come see,” he called. “Stand here.”
I did and in embrace, both of us looking outward,
three disks of light quivered beyond the glass door,
shifting a bit as we turned our heads,
fluttering with each shiver of wind.
It mattered not to us
that the source of the lights as we looked outward
was really a reflection from behind us
of the recessed lights in the kitchen.
We were witnessing the extraordinary.
My husband and I just returned from a trip to Arizona where we got to spend much needed time hiking the eerie beauty of lava trails at Sunset Crater, the red rocks of Sedona, and the wonder of the Grand Canyon. Each time I visit this area, I am inspired by the mysticism that seems to permeate the region.