I was going to wait for dawn,
right before the sun would rise,
As twilight shaded me in early morning hues.
A shadow to the horizon,
the moistened rim of a bottle
by which I hung;
I was going to go down as the sun came up,
become a ravishing site to the child in a backseat
3 miles away and below, whose maybe never seen a vulture,
its areal show
against a backdrop of hills and mountains.

Anything can be beautiful,
I have learned that;
a battlefield and its flapping flag,
centered, framed-
glorious.
And anything can be sacred;
A bashed up car, a gash in a stone,
a blurred vignette of a trip back home.
Each time, I think it might be gone,
as if maybe it had never occurred.
Two stubborn souls and a paper map
that hoarded their sight and a slight of hand.
Direction has become a poison,
and so I must look from a distance-
at the unseen specks that maintain life,
blending with the scenery.
From where I stand.
Breathtaking.