At dusk She puts on a show

And sometimes we can’t wait

To unleash

Let go




Our sound

Our siren

Gratitude to Her for another day

In celebration of Her time with us

As others anticipate Her light

She bids adieu

The sky honors Her with color

The birds bow in collective silence

The wind settles in respect

And we serenade Her with our songs of thanks

I have mine

you have yours

they can be shared

but not given away


not always believable


without being seen


without leaving a scent

they touch you

you can’t touch them

powerful, controlling, obsessive

fragile, compliant, restrained

they will rule you

if you let them

And then like a wave that comes from nowhere and crashes on the shore

the sun, fickle and flirty, decides to set

and hummingbirds grow quiet

and silence gets louder

and earth tucks itself in

and coyotes howl

and the sky becomes a colorful canopy

to make way for the stars to put on a show

that only nature sees

I enter its carefully lined path

neither precise, nor perfect and so it is

circuitous, meandering, purposeful

it beckons without agenda

dusty and worn, my shoes carry the scent of piñon

my slow, methodical steps begin to blend with my breath

left I inhale, right I exhale

thoughts are subdued

the sun rises over the peak, my shadow arrives

is that my step or my breath?

they’ve become indistinguishable

finally, I am home