Absent too long
and memory too short
clouds my home town.
It is in he haze of the aged..
The snapshots in my head are like
postcards sent across the decades
from me to me.
Sipping coffee on the patio
and marveling at the sunrise - a perfect time
to thumb through that postcard file.
Access Monument Lake
for a bonanza of memories' cues.
That big chunk of sandstone
in the middle of the lake,
a focus for so many photos.
That is a place to start
the magic lantern show.
The route there is through Jansen,
Primero and Segundo and little gyms
where basketball is played.
History narrates the journey as
each plaza and coal camp
is filled with ghosts anxious
to tell their stories.
Isn't that where Marcus Vigil is buried?
And up that road is Bon Carbo
and Berwind with the story
of THE STRIKE.
Weston still smells of fresh cut timber
and the Parson place remains
the most beautiful ranch around.
And don't forget
the special place where
the Picketwire runs
through Stonewall gap.
Photogenic forever
and only the age of cars and costumes
mark the passage of time.
Each generation has posed there in
the prime of their youth.
They smile confident
that the moment will never end
as they are frozen forever
as heros in that awesome studio.
There is a meadow
on the way to North Lake
that is rimmed in aspen
and framed with blue mountains
that has only Spring and Fall.
There is the fountain head
for spring wild flowers
and the aspen yellow gold
that gives warmth to Winter's death.
La Veta Pass ends the beauty
and Walsenburg
to Trinidad
on the Interstate provides
decompression from this postcard walk.
The journey ends as it began,
remembering what
was there for us before.
Put the cards away
for another day when
hazy memory needs a prompt.
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