Spirits in the Desert


In the Aravaipa Canyon, twigs dance ballet &

white butterflies circle desert blooms.

All day, wind grabs a flag & plays the music

of a blazing fire.

At dusk, Mescal’s green & yellow feather shapes jumped

from behind closed eyes,

imprinted themselves on the night sky as

Horus,Krishna, Isis. . .

Has the world always been so alive?

Has fire always caressed ribs of wood

in honeycomb shapes?

So many spirits in the desert and

“O-ee wa tay   Oeeeoeeeewaaatay”

is their song.

The owl cries above me,

reminding me that

home is within.


About Lightning Heart

Nomad. Poet. Philosopher. Teacher. View all posts by Lightning Heart

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