Kiva Journey

Backed up against a sandstone cliff
a cabin sits, just waiting;
a river flows not far beyond;
the wind slows, hesitating...
what green exists is small and few
except upon the cliff
and dawn and evening hours are clothed
in gray and prowling mist;
not far away, I come upon
steps carved into a wall,
and climbing to their highest point,
find ruins over all;
a crumbled kiva calls my name
and draws my curious feet,
and as I step within its Sphere,
the Earth's heart skips a beat.