A Walk in Tsaile

the sun fails to make sense anymore

an insect buzzes in overgrown red brome

butterfly whistle     spark of beetle or wire rush

cattle choke wide   sage in late weather

a field of big grass and red sky

small water amiss through words

and wind and a faded scar

like the one I trace on your wrist sometimes

and man the day fell hours ago

and you ask me to slow down

something shifts in the bushes

a rabbit      an eternity      a bull snake

there is a meteorite in my hand

a bird in yours