|Photo by Trent Chau|
Dawn comes walking
wrapped in a blue blanket
striped with red purple and gold
A silver snake sprawls her sinuous curves
amongst the ashen hills,
winding towards turquoise mountains
under a wet misty sky.
Four insects swarm up sides as sharp as shrapnel
to stand and point and murmur
and fidget a bit
in front of the gods.
Riding bareback on green winds, their fingers
deep in the sleeping earth,
the gods have no time to listen,
though dimly they sense a presence.
They’re too busy making water and feathers,
rabbits for coyotes, and grass for rabbits, mountains for time
and riddles for humans
to stop when they aren’t called.
Written for One Shoot Sunday at the inimitable One Stop Poetry
slightly revised 11:27 am