By Vaughn Hadenfeldt
My place of worship has sandstone walls
Arches are altars and ledges become pews.
There are rafters of gnarled cottonwood limbs
Hidden alcove gardens are my inner sanctum.
Gods send messages down the aisles
In raging flash floods and down-canyon breezes.
After-storm rainbows are my stained glass
And potholes are the tadpole’s baptismal fonts.
Scriptures are revealed in images pecked and painted
On rock surface patina and sheltered cliff faces
While holy water seeps clear or flows blood red.
My collection plate is passed around by the BLM
And I stuff it with permit fees
At the end of each guiding season.
–Vaughn Hadenfeldt is co-owner of Far Out Expeditions in Bluff, Utah.