night
pure darkness
all stars
winds raking sage into piles of shattered silver
roots crying out to deep
oh the black and bones of these mountains
coyotes weep at the moon
clinging to the hillsides with tongues and claws
tails
straight as arrows
yipping the planet into spin
i am in the high country
my forehead pressed against the dome of the sky
sipping at the milky way with thirsty lips
grinding stars between
my teeth
i cannot feel my hands
this cold air is too bitter
better the air than my young heart