I follow smoke signals to higher ground
sit on mesa long and alone
eat the sky
learn valley below holds healing
lights cry night
might never right
I look to Coyote within
Pine Mountain Perseids
Summer on the mountain
as night storms hung over the valley
with grey rainclouds rolling
like a fallen moon.
At the peak I heard coyotes
sing with the thunder
in rejoice for the body taken
and for all of our mourning the wild.
Between gust fronts
the sky parted, shining
meteors like white birds of blue fire
filled with your energy
as I looked up alone from the rocks
dynamic in repose as sleeping dead.
like I am always too easily given,
I am pained by our hiding the same,
but the light continues
in a bliss without acknowledgment
as that dust like us lives its moment
divine through vanishing arrows.
~ John Swain