Smoke

smoke in Chama Canyon
surrounds me like the ghosts
of all the dead I’ve ever known

somewhere close a lone cow bellows
echoes sound far upriver

in the dusk her calf replies
too late too late
from the other side

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Morning – Chama River
For you are mist that appears for a little while
and then vanishes.  – James 4:14

the silence
of breaking clouds

the little ones hiding
in side canyons

breaking free
above the river

a raven laughs
and drops a feather

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Evening – Chama River

Love means to learn to look at yourself
The way one looks at distant things
– Czelslaw Milosz

Pulling back the blankets tonight
I found a small cricket
quiet and shy
hiding under my pillow.

Oh, I know better.
Like me, though, it seemed alone
and in need of a companion
to get through the dark alive.

So, I’ll awaken before dawn
and give thanks if we’re still here
like the moths that flew to the light just now
when I opened the door to check for rain.