The Joshua Tree

 

Here you are again

in my poem --

torch bearer of moonlight

and blue darkness that burns

into my brain

 

as I see

the spirits  you draw:

 

raven and coyote,

lizard and tortoise

owl and snake, squirrel

and jack rabbit.

 

They come to tell you,

tree of the ancient grove,

guardsman of the plain,

 

there'll be drought

furrowing the land

with sharp blades of wind,

 

rain shadow

and dry lightning

that sets to flame

many wicks of thistle

and sage,  grass and vine.

 

Most will leave

but a few will stay.

 

Those who throw

their hands to the sky

shifting to bark

and needle leaf,

 

those who will dwell

next to you 

as brethren or sisters.

 

and those at night

who know how to slip back,

silhouette into stances

that seem most human.

 

The moon stalking their field

with her chatoyant eye.