October 25, 2016


Across the desert,

the muffled freeway

runs through

our silent room,

while we dream

beneath a setting moon.

Seeking water,

geese sound overhead,

just as we speak,

to remember 

what we've said.

Nocturnal hunters

will disappear

by light of day,

when we'll emerge,

forever changed,

by what

we've heard

them say.