Tag Archives: The Dance of Life by Edward T. Hall


We drove by the pueblos
Arid masters of the canyon wall
This small niche of America
Tucked in pockets of stone

Their life carved out
Of leathered, weathered secrets
And the very nation’s bone
And us upon four wheels

Chiseling their existence
Their notion of a soul
From our time machine’s advantage
With a camera in my phone.