We are on desert time
where hours fly gently
like hummingbirds gliding,
amusing ourselves
watching playful cottontails
darting in and out of bushy brush,
sunsets dripping in liquid gold,
the tranquil repose of the moon.

It is here
in August
where we melt our grief
in sauna heat
looking over a ladybug
to see the future.

Linda Joy Walder

(dedicated to my cherished desert tribe)