1

              is it enough, ever, merely to wait

upon the coming of the night, or
     can i seek it out in places in which
it might be
              lurking

2

         look for the stars

but not the moon, for the moon
shall hide her face until the stars have swept
    
                 the sky clear

3

         these thoughts crowd my mind as i sit

the desert cold and the air clean as a
   coyote sings for his brothers, or his sisters, or
just calling,
              calling for the moon, again

4

          in this ancient place, above the river

which flows, even at night, swift and brown
     carrying its life mournfully to the ocean
down and down and down through this ancient
         canyon

5

     again the coyote calls, again

where is the moon,
     the great, vast mesa of desert sand
stretches before us, and, on the horizon
a sandstone tower rises,
     distant, austere;

6
        
         and in the night, as far as the
eye could see, fading and falling, in low pleats,
     the grey sand dunes,

         with the wild prickly desert plants on them,
which always seemed to be
         running away, to some moon country,
uninhabited of men