Breathless.

I return home to Kauai where the shades of green are numerous and the air so moist and soft. I still dream of the ochres, deep reds, and burnished golds of the Grand Canyon walls. I am taken back to a time just days ago when the dry desert air baked my skin. I still feel the icy chill of my dips in the clear blue Colorado River. I hear the trade winds blowing the palm trees outside my window and the sound evokes the echo of the river’s rapids. The song of the Shama Thrush, so melodious and merry, recalls to my memory the trill of the Canyon Wren. I have been in the canyon so grand and it lives in me.

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