Monday, September 3, 2012

Summons From The Drought

                                        ( For James)                       
                       In shadow, the Joshua Tree bent
                       like a Hopi flute player
                       piping his strange song
                       among the crows and moon.

                        Near dawn, rain dampened the field.
                        I shook some pine needles in my hand
                        and dissolved into the coolness.
                        My green perfume strong
                        luring the tribal prince home.

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