we are snatching sea level
in arcs of adobe territory
like cave dwellers
stratifying time

high in the sky it's
showering, and the gods
of the mesas loom large

we feel hardened/millions
of years old, cut by
rain in desert paints/we feel
sheer in our recreation

panning the alkali
our sagebrush senses fill,
over land cracks so dry it
might ignite/ as the arrows
of the Ute whizz by

Sara Fielder © May 2018