Wadi Mujib

   
        The road, like a Roman road,
        leading straight and level,
        brings us up over a sharply angled bridge
        that spans the deep gorge
        of the Grand Canyon, Wadi Mujib.
        
        A sleek modern bridge
        that cuts across the crumbling chasm.
        
        At first I see a suspension bridge,
        but the expected tangled web
        of metal has been supplanted. 

        Instead, neatly etched into space,
        is the profile of two great triangles
        delineated by wide solid bases that soar up
        towards extreme narrowness-
        Geometric precision swiftly shaving girth,
        and the pinnacles seems to dissolve
        into the light air of deep sky.

        The chasm is the Grand Canyon
        of  Jordan, Wadi Mujib.
        Deep red rock with stratum shades
        that flux and fuse into shadow-
        a fissure that holds a shallow river
        as it empties into the Dead Sea.
        
        We pull over-
        rush up to take pictures.
        Pictures of the chasm,
        that's been there to be gazed at
        since history itself.
        Pictures of each other,
                                        
        knowing we're a brief interlude
        on this astonishing landscape.
        Pictures of the exquisite bridge.
        Pictures of rock formations looming
        against blue sky.  Pictures of the water
        way down below, the trickle
        that tickled these tall cliffs into place.
        Pictures of each other posing
        and pictures of each other
        taking pictures.

poem copyright ©2000 Anne Selden Annab

The Nook

        There is a nook,
        a small arced shape
        recessed in the stone wall,
        that holds a graceful urn
        from antiquity.
        
        A sparrow alights on the rim
        comes to sit in the sun,
        comes to sing
        and chatter
        and tell me,
        the shadow form,
        of other days
        when other sparrows
        came to bathe
        in a pitcher's warm wet water.
        
        Came to stir
        and sip
        and delight
        in my sleepiness
        as the sun stretches
        and the shadow becomes self.



poem copyright ©2000 Anne Selden Annab