Strands of Time
Riding the ridge in Canon City,
Colorado, that thin, winding road
built by the sweat of the state’s
prisoners; almost afraid to stop,
get out, look at the vista below.
I stopped, stared at the thin bands of time
exposed on that ridge,
almost not believing I was looking
at millions of years, strands revealing
the birth of one-celled life, emergence
of the shark, cephalopods, the giant ones,
the rise of T. Rex. I thought I could
see their demise in an inches-thick
black stripe, stood there awed
by such a revelation, although
I’d assumed its significance
because that’s what it looked like.
I wondered which line gave rise to
my ancestors, finally returned to my car,
overwhelmed by my ignorance
of this rock that gave rise to me.
Jonathan (son #3) said,
23 January 2007 at 4:21 pm
Found, laser-printed, among an assortment of other poems, in a manila envelope. Undated, but he lived in Colorado only from Spring 1998. This poem was likely written by my father during my absence in California, Summer 2000-Spring 2003.