the sun and moon are both good to the desert.
they do no harm to it.
it is so simple. it is not listening
to the babble of the way things
should be. it is even, steady,
and rises quickly in both lights
when it wants to.
these rises, these white peaks, granite
and dry scrub,
are silent in that hour
when the sun and moon meet -
they want to be silent -
they have nothing more to say than being there.
they let the sky speak its smallest most
neglected songs: the low swish of cirrus clouds
unraveling, the faint clap
of stars appearing. these love the desert for its humility,
and fear it.
who is this, so wise, so simple
as to let things be how they are?
the sun reveals it.
the moon makes it bright with joy.