Desert light
falls in Fall
on desert trees.
The wind dries my lips, hair and skin
while the raptors fly
sky spirits cry
unheard, under that howling, smoke filled sky,
sent from Santa Ana.
The haze moves on, causing hundreds of pine cones to drop,
into the dream of the dusty barren hard earth
One cone drops with a rustle where I stand
on the side of this mountain
in this desert
with this infinite view of promise.
