desert

nightfall.
the gate was locked
so we parked
and got out,
lights from the camp
a distant glow,
the stars a sea
across the desert sky.

no moon.
hand in hand we stumbled
along the gravel
cholla and saguaro
shadows guarding our way.
one step off the path
and we’d be lost,
our bodies caught
by lurking cacti
but the feel of the road
so clear.

no torch.
without sight
we heard every rustle
of wind in the sage brush
the chatter and slither of scales
the howls of lonely coyote
singing.
we smelled dust
and clean dry sand,
the pungent odor
of smoke, the rot
of logs we carried
from the gate
to feed the fire.

halfway.
we stop for a moment
face each other, unseen,
and sing
to the living night

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