Hereford, Arizona
Winter
Alone in my gazebo at midnight,
I’m wrapped in a blanket; there are no voices,
no wind, but the chill of the grassland is flooded
by the half-moon’s light. A few coyotes bark,
great horned owls sing their four notes
to each other from the tops
of the utility poles along my road.
I have to stifle my inclination
to talk to myself. I’d be an intrusion
in the order of the night,
though my neighbor’s rooster
lets loose a reminder that
he is awake and on duty,
a paladin assuring everyone
that he is in charge
of the grassland’s tranquility.
From: Small Places, Big Places Everywhere
Unpub MS p. 27
