Gravel singing underneath
each step, the foothills move aside
to let the mountain through.
Javelina left their tracks
as punctuation in the story
darkness told. No left wing
right wing
leanings here, no arguments about
whose rain it was
that fell for hours just yesterday
and soaked, root-happy, down, down
into the thirsty underworld
while rocks
from ground up to
the morning sky
hold their positions through whatever
comes. The desert passed a motion
to ordain all randomly
assembled forms
that they
become spirits to endure all weather.
*
Two ravens over desert
call truth in a single syllable
while language that grows on the ground
is busy selling fear and weight loss,
disguising fraud
as promises. One is the shadow
of the other, echo
of the caw
that clouds hear, no questions asked
of the universe they’re in
or why they were chosen
to fly
where lies cannot reach.
*
Sky rotating, gullies still, cloud east,
cloud west, and questions
chasing quail
too quick to answer them.
Two storms for the price of one
back in the supermarket world,
the one that knows our names. Another few steps
between thorns and the twisted
left-behind
trees in the arroyo. A tight space.
No reason to be here. And none
to turn back. The moment
in a dream that won’t explain itself. Desert’s
broken parts.
Time to turn pockets out,
count peace and small change while the sun shines.
*
The high ground doesn’t lend
and the low ground doesn’t borrow.
The mountain once
was married
to the moon, harbored nightly
mysteries until
the hour of sunlight for the taking
in a debt-free sky.
*
Seen from where the trail begins
losing its grip on the earth
the distant four peaks whiten
in a borrowed frost from winter. A chill
from the sun
touches down between the mesquite
chosen for a nest
and a saguaro hollowed to
its determined stand against drought.
A gentle rise in elevation,
foothold
on the smooth stones, a scramble
up the slope and then
body changes places with the soul, or so
the romantics would have it,
but here
is where coyotes turn
their daytime dreams to water
and run
faster than the latest legislation
can ever escape good judgment.
*
The ridgeline wanders off into another day.
Loses hold on what has gone before.
Tethered to darkness
it listens
for the owl calling
to soften the severity
of laws
and to summon
some compassion from arroyos.
.
David Chorlton
.