You should have come here then,
he said. I wish I could have shown you how
it was. Arrowheads. Along these
rocky creek beds. Obsidian chips.
Bits of chalcedony. Now and then
opal embedded in feldspar. Sunlight
low on the hills. Up in the draws,
the shadowy bunch grass.
Of course, that’s all
still here, but you don’t see
the big quartz crystals, and hardly ever
a geode anymore. Up there, on that ridge
by the balancing rock, I once saw
two antelope watching me
just about dusk.
I followed him back to the truck.
We kicked up a little dust
on the high November desert.
I passed him the water bottle.
He started the motor,
and we headed