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Cyndi Lloyd

Sand Drift

Above White Canyon, Natural Bridges National Monument

I walk along Horsecollar Ruin Overlook Trail, past piñon pine and Utah juniper, my hiking boots stirring up the orange sand. I stop and photograph two dead, fallen trees. In between them, a sprig of rabbitbrush flames gold in the afternoon sun. 

cairns
closer to the cliff's
edge

I step out on the unsecured rim and gaze into the canyon—steep walls carved by water, wind, and sand. Since childhood, I’ve been fascinated with rocks. Growing up near the mountains, my parents used to pack my siblings and me in the station wagon for picnics in the canyons. I loved to go off on my own to see what I could find. When I’d return to the car, my hands would be full of river rocks, my pant pockets stretched from the weight of more. You’re not taking all of those home, Mom would tell me. I’d spread them on the ground. Hurry up, she’d say. How to choose which ones to take, which to leave behind?

The trail leads me to the remains of an ancestral Puebloan cliff dwelling. Two granary doors resemble horse collars. As I walk back the way I came, the arc of sunlight changes the surrounding colors and, before me, two rust-colored sandstone rocks, one a shade darker than the other, beg to be picked up. But what if everyone who came through this area each took a couple of rocks?  What would remain?

the setting sun
through a ruin's window
a shadow moves

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About the Author

Cyndi Lloyd’s haikai poems appear in worldwide publications and anthologies. She volunteers as a moderator on the Inkstone Poetry Forum. Life in Utah, with her husband and dog, affords her the bountiful pleasures of different naturescapes, as well as hiking, exploring, and taking photographs.