Anna breathed the scent of juniper and sage on mountain’s morning thermal rise, cool of the night’s draw from sky little moisture that was there—sense of a dew that did not show but felt still to skin of way.
From veranda place, they welcomed dawn—glow-flame flame of the rising sun—in break and gleam and cast over vast of the open wilds.
Home again, of a spirit way, where tribes still roamed amongst history and ruins; where Catholics—in asceticism—built cloisters amongst the relics, living layer into the histories; all in search and seek and find, as she, of same one-treasure of the Wilderness—GOD, revelation, communion with Light of the World—in ascetic of mountains and desert plain.
Dawn in break, Light in cast, Spirit’s wave touched over and through; fear and trembling, sudden peace, of Wonder’s after-awe.