****** into the desert sky
from sage leaves
and pine needles
from lizards sunning
themselves on rocks
and raptors preying on them
from above

and from us
walking by the river
and all the people
on the sidewalks
and city streets
sweating and breathing

from the last exhalations
of dying grandparents
in hospital beds
and later
from the crematory chimney

it rises
once part of us, and
what is left of them
and mingles
enfolding dust
in its crystalline embrace
and falling softly white
over mountains shivering
in howling winter winds

they cannot hear
the laughter of children
resurrecting them as snowmen
with cold red fingers
later abandoning them
in the meadow
under the merciless sun
soaking muddy green fields
of springtime

they percolate through soil
into channels
small and large
and finally down the canyon
roaring grey green
and foaming white
over rapids
through eddies
swirling into a pool
cupped in a grey granite palm
ancient yet smooth
as newborn skin

where I dip my hands
shatter that harsh yellow eye
into a thousand fireflies
and splash cool water
on my face