I am desert. I am mountains. I am Great Salt Lake. There are other languages being spoken by wind, water, and wings. ~Terry Tempest Williams

praise the language of the world
written in the salty sand
with coyote nailprints
in thick water drifted ripples

see the determined run of webbed feet
stamped into wet earth before liftoff
with hollow buoyant bones
and the strength in feathers
all lined up just right for flight

hear the songs of foam balls
rolling around like shoreline fingers
playing the delicate instrument
of wind and water and iridescent light

feel the perfect circle circumference
of rabbit’s hole in the ground
with prints thumped into the oolites
joyously and cautiously every which way

hold the memory of all the smells
the fecund and airy and open
in doses needed to not just float off
in a place like this
so full of heaven

Note from the poet: I am forever grateful to those who have protected and still work to protect this Great Salt Lake ecosystem, my chosen home base. Here my heart is filled with the language of the birds and animals, basking in the ever-changing palate of land and sky and sea and sun.