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  • Writer's pictureA is for Agape

Glenwood Springs

When I think that these rolling plains, pinnacles, snow covered peaks, and then back to the harsh scrub of this valley; when I contemplate the men that came before, not on smooth roads but through the dirt, rocks, prickly shrubs, sometimes mounted on horses, sometimes walking, scraping, limping; when I think of all this and then go farther back, to when this wasn’t even here, when the earth was just swells and ebbs, nothing too extreme, but life, life was different, has always been different, all this runs through my mind, behind my eyes, trying to grasp what it must have been like. We grow and swell, recede and jut, right along with this place, this place that once was not and now looms majestic over me.

I am awed. I am humbled. I am grateful.

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