I need to grasp this beautiful day,
An area for my mind’s play,
Not delay until tomorrow,
Nor to use it in shade or sorrow,
But let light shine so glimmering fey.
Beauty resides in this place,
Like a breeze against my face,
‘Tho clouds promise later rain,
Harmonic rhythms here sustain,
The aesthetic tones of infinite space.
Thunderous storms are in transition,
Life-giving moisture on land’s position,
No matter, I’ve dressed for weather,
Warmth keeps body and soul together,
As nature reveals its quiet mission.
Parka and poncho I have on,
‘Til the storm is past and gone,
The natural cycle is elegant,
With whispering so benevolent.
A solitude to which I’m drawn.
Ah, see the clouds drift away,
Carpe diem—I must pluck the day.
Francis Conlon is a retired and recovering teacher. For the past 20 years, he has worked as a seasonal river ranger and boat inspector at Yampa River State Park in northwest Colorado. He has published in the local Valley Voice and in Westward Quarterly. He currently lives in Salt Lake City, Utah.