by Scott Utley
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.