her cold reflection
of tomorrow's sunshine
tells a future in secret code
the rainbows in my eyes blind me
listening for the sacred words,
I hear night birds on the wing
the lonesome call of coyote;
this is still the desert, yet
no longer wilderness
it's hard to hear my breath,
to focus on the slow draw in,
silent exhale, repeat,
inhalation...
expiration...
it's late and gibbous moon
reveals that tomorrow will come
perhaps, there will still be breath
and night birds to cast spells
in cackling magick words
I understand, but only
in my dreams
(c) 4.27.18
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