VERMILION CASTLE
At Bowery Creek, the cottonwoods
undress themselves for the fall,
maples combust against
Navajo sandstone so red,
it makes the deer seem green.
Down from the summer pastures,
the Herefords part around the car
like the Red Sea. The cowboy tips his hat,
says his smile will break my camera.
Lariat ready for strays, he whistles
to the cattle milling at the stop sign.
A redtail hawk hovers above us,
vermilion spires pierce the sky.
Quaking aspens whisper sunlight
to the patches of first snow
and I am far from home.
9/21/93 Utah
