How it is in Concho, AZ

20 01 2009

I rumble on the plateaus today.
The grass is drained of summer’s colors,
brush blown wild in impressionist whorls.

I miss the valley;
its buzz of humanity,
the whistle of passing cars.

Here, the empty roads are
skeins of inky hair
winding miles to cities elsewhere.

I could safely lay my cheek to asphalt.
Listen to the hills echoing for hours,

saying nothing.

But the night
when it comes low and swift
lifts its blue black arms,
shatters me with stars,

and I am consumed by radiance.




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: