alta lake park

The resolute movements of the moon, imperceptible sound

of eyes reading about Alta lake park. Waters float a song in
search of a tongue, mountain is like a telephone handset
that has been left on a table, hear the sound of rain falling
on rock and the hands of the clock of the soul tap out an
incantation. 
 
Wind divines music from trees docked, rain falls from leaves
like notes leaking from heaven. Can you hear Alta lake park
talking to America and the world. Candle of silence becomes
surrounded by songs, is the light blind as it dances alone?,
as the hands of the sun and moon clasp in prayer for the
sustainability of parks. Ghosts are released as a flower opens,
wind mutters the names on graves of those who have passed
through and passed on.