Another Mile High Poem

Here in my sandstone lounge
I write my mile high poems
this bright spring afternoon
to read among the Red Rocks
without a microphone
just me, alone
atop this hogback
sipping spring water
from an old stone bowl
laughing at the world
as it spins
like the natural coyote
I’ve become
like a wild dog chewing
his natural bone.

Charles Rossiter
(Red Rock Park, April, 2002)