Not enough, she said.
To watch the Pink Moon rise above
Or walk barefoot through sand and
Sense the cool and the heat
Or taste the grit.
Too little, she said.
To bask in the contrast
Of colors and light and shadow
And changing form too quick for the
Pace of an eye.
Insufficient, she said.
To venture to the crevices and rolls
That always seem further than once thought
And require a steady plod and rising pulse
Simply to reach.
Wanting, she said.
To see the brave, strong sunflowers
That manage with little encouragement
And give life to another season and a favorable
View of conditions.
Incomplete, she said.
Far more of the ordinary odyssey of
Extraordinary perspectives that dare tease
And remind to be wary and mindful and
Drink the world in.
In advance, she said.
Of that which vanishes.
These pictures were taken at Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve near Alamosa, Colorado. The dunes are the tallest in North America and cover 330 square miles against the backdrop of the rugged Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Estimates of their age vary from 12,000 years to over a million years.