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