The wind comes up cold in August.
Coyotes bark in the valley
I sit on the mountain
Raven wings brushing my hair
Pay attention to me, says Raven.
I will. Tomorrow.
Right now I’m distracted
Tied up. Tied down.
Raven sits in the juniper
Watching me as I draw him
Looking at me
He swoops in to untie a knot
He talks to me every day.
Light glancing off his feathers
Six drawings later
My eyes are reflected in his
As I walk in the desert morning
Raven lands in front me
And finally I do.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment