The rising moon extends an olive branch. Honored, I graciously accept.

The starry-domed astro-lab sparkles an ovation. A shooting star, one of thousands

I will see tonight, circles twice, then takes a dive, kissing heaven on the other side.

Holy coyotes yelp and shout. They throw cactus darts at cunning hares.

The Kit fox looks for gold while I meditate on Forgiving Rock under a sublime moon.

Join me if you wish. Beside me there is always room.

08/26/2006