How Night Survives
The blue desert unrolls
beneath a full moon whose light
snags at the tip
of every needle on saguaros leaning
up against the darkness.
The day’s last hummingbird turns into a leaf
that turns into a star that turns
into the all-seeing eye
in the sky: such are miracles
where a bobcat flies
from peak to peak
and coyotes run faster than time can
pursue them, back, back,
back to when God rode on horseback
to claim all the land. But the dry air
fought back and made of thirst
a prayer for the life
even of the scorpion
whose sting points the way for the
spirit to follow.
Spirit Face
The poster stared from every summer
window in business next to business next to
where the trail begins
that leads to the ridgeline holding up
the sky. Out walking, nowhere in particular
to be, just a spirit loosened from
the mind, lost and drawn to desert light,
just the lure of distance
beyond distance and the curiosity late
in life to find what meaning means.
One dizzy step, a rock
to lay her head on,
heat that dreamed its way out through her eyes,
all paths leading to the sun
and the sun takes every offering,
gives nothing back.
David Chorlton lives within reach of the desert park that interrupts the urban flow of Phoenix. His newest book is "Poetry Mountain" from Cholla Needles in Joshua Tree, CA, which draws extensively on his immediate surroundings and its wildlife.
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