Saturday Bird Songs
Silently Lost behind the
Western most peak
On the horizon
Early Morning moon
All is still
Except for
A cacophony of bird song
A woman has written
Words like petals
Colorful and sweet
The monitor glows
Her staff the Keyboard
Years ago her home
Was a pit house
Foundation of stone
Her touchstone
A warrior/hunter
Man she loved
Now many generations later
She calls to her former self
Her own Grandmother
Of long ago
Locks her eyes upon
The horizon
Watches for a dust devil
To rise the powdered dust
From the desert floor
After awhile
Her eyes return
To the monitor
Her fingers to the keys
Sprinkle more petals
On the page
To be sung in
Saturday morning key
annellannell 