When the early fire rests calmly
on the slopes, the inner life of rocks
comes to the surface. Trails flow
toward the sky, arroyos
dig their teeth into the gravel
and spit mesquite seeds
to guide them
back when they come down.
There’s a fault line
connecting the sun to a highway
that never sleeps, but
every shadow knows the way
to where the natural world
falls silent.
Listen
when the owl folds up its wings
and disappears; the Earth is breaking open
to release the prayers by which
the birds sing the sun
out from in between the clouds.
David Chorlton