It’s a stony season in the sky
while down among the evergreens
a rattlesnake is stretched from June
to August. Progressing slowly grass to grass
it stops to let the sunlight
count its scales. There’s a look
of fresh kill innocence
about the face, and concentration as
befits five feet of inner life.
Above the rhyolite ridge
there’s a memory trying to find
its way back to the canyon,
a three-quarter day moon shading white
to blue and balanced
on the tip of a hawk’s wing. Sometimes
it’s crosseyed and boozy,
ghosting its way through
daylight. Calcium to see by, iron
for balance and rolling
back to where the past
is just a touch away, close enough
to capture with a bite.
,
David Chorlton
.