Mexican Hat

You’d have two real seasons here,
If you did settle. Day. Night.
Summer stays most of the year,
And even the winter’s dry.

It’s quiet, but you’d never
Hear the end of the river
Murmuring against the cliffs
And over its cobbled bed.

Now and then a dog would bark
From among the shacks uphill.
You’d get those ghostly echoes
From red cliffs and brown waters.

Most days, clouds wouldn’t bother
To decorate the bare blue.
Most nights, moon or arc of stars,
Scorching days freezing by dawn.

It would just repeat itself
While you aged in the shadows.
Could you handle that? Could you?
Now, it’s fine, but would it be

Enough, the monotony,
Monotony enough? Now,
It’s fine for a winter hour,
But would it remain lonely?

There would be the rafting trips,
Maybe picnicking tourists,
Bored locals roaring bikes.
Those dog barks. And the river.

Right now, it’s spooky how much
You want to stay on this rock,
Alone, to watch the river’s
Hold on boredom forever.