The Advocate

 

Huge pillars of cactus

loom on the hillside --  but I can't tell

which one shelters

a bird whimpering in song.

 

I imagine her body

mottled in gray like old lace

and her small head crowned

with a black crest. Sweet

 

mantilla bird

crying into the desert

for anyone

who wants a kindred voice,

the comfort of an echo.