Somewhere in Canyon DeShay

Somewhere in Canyon DeShay,
where water trickles softly
from canyon rock to sand and pebble,
Coyote, that Ol' Coyote,
dreams of Maria, the sorceress,
the dark-eyed desert child,
skin soft as water,
red-brown as desert sandstone,
as the canyon walls themselves.

Ol' Coyote dreamed. . . .

In the world of dreams,
of quantum time, of
Coyote consciousness,
he felt her breath against the hard stick
that is his constant companion,
even as on some level he heard
water drop from canyon walls,
or, even as now, he felt the
freshness of cool breeze against
waves of dry, desert heat,
washing, washing, over
Coyote skin, bone, hair. . . .

Somewhere in Canyon DeShay,
Ol' Coyote dreamed. . . dreamed of Maria,
the sorceress, the dark-eyed desert child,
mysterious and fresh as a desert flower.

LaurieC