Calico Dream
Calico ghost
cowgirl on the whirlwind,
drinks dusty nectar
from the thimble of
a wildflower's face,
dances on a wagon wheel
across a wicked wasteland,
eyes on the blue mountains
and the swallow's last home.
Her well-wound heart
chimes soft as a pocket watch
under cool cotton covers.
She washes in sunsplash
and curls up contented
to whisper when the coyote howls.
She's nothing but a promise
guarding the river
that sinners can't cross.
Calico girl
sings me at sunset
a tune from the Territory
a chant from the Tribes
beaded with pollen hot from the prairie,
keeping her hands clean, hiding
the hunted, defying the flag.
She follows the trail
no murderer can see.
~August 2017
posted for Izy's Unseen
( nothing more unseen than a cowgirl in a dream)
Images: Cowgirls, public domain
via wikimedia commons
