Canyon
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How to Regain Your Soul
by William Stafford
Come down Canyon Creek trail
on a summer afternoon
that one place
where the valley floor opens out.
You will see the white butterflies.
Because of the way shadows
come off those vertical rocks
in the west, there are shafts
of sunlight hitting the river
and a deep long purple gorge
straight ahead. Put down your pack.
Above, air sighs the pines.
It was this way
when Rome was clanging,
when Troy was being built,
when campfires lighted caves.
The white butterflies dance
by the thousands in the still sunshine.
Suddenly, anything could happen
to you. Your soul pulls
toward the canyon and then
shines back through
the white wings to be you again.
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Poem: Sycamore Canyon Nocturne