Mesa Home

Mesa Home

High atop southwestern mesa,
     trails of silence barter chance.
Sky painted on fired clay vessel,
     shadows fight, make up, dance.

Incense wrapped in Time’s feathers,
     sage cinders pursue stars at play.
Describing places old gods recline,
     circular breath reshapes my clay.

Galaxy divides clusters left to right,
     either side can unravel this night.
Destiny written with charred wood,
     on that, my place, I wish I stood.

EaS