Spirit World

Sometimes I walk and a poem will come to me. Sometimes I come to a poem. They are more real when they come to me. This one came to me.

Spirit World

I fish for echo
of the sun
as it swims
through early morning crevice
of primitive canyon
spawning
on red rock walls
where I hear
faded whispers
of petroglyph
not knowing what was being said
but without spoken word
I feel the depth
of its meaning
as I reel in the silence.

Peter (June 1997)

Chicago has great energy but I am better suited for the spirituality of early mornings in the peacefulness of the remote primitive canyons.