The Nevada hillside
led me down
among the Pinion Pines
past the filled in
silver mine,
the cowboy coffee ***
on the ground.

The wind blew
through the trees
without a sound-
before my eyes,
I saw a sight,
as spider webs
one by one
one after another
spun
glimmering in the afternoon sun,
Spider webs
spiraling past,
Thinner than thin
stronger than strong,
Blowing from where?
Blowing to where?
Spun and spun
through that air.

A mustang came through the trees,
I looked at him
he looked at me -

These mountain hills
held
the echoes of  dreams,
come and gone,
Spider webs blowing through the sun,
riding upon the horses of the silent winds.