mantra

I Am Your New Television: Ok, you can stop thinking now.

Moths hover at a safe distance from the orange, smoldering, glow.

Cylinder of heat rises, wafting waves of smoke. Juniper. Like myst. Anointing everything it breathes on. Leaves. Moths. Pinon needles. Night. Me.

Snatch of Pinon hurried onto the embers. Juniper and Pinon encapsulate stars. Infuse through moon. Nearly full. Casting shadows. Casting light. It can’t hide tonight.

Flurry of moths flit above my head. I close my eyes and flit. Gliding. Basking. Enjoying warmth. Laughing with my friends at our good fortune.

I open my eyes. Something is moving in the grass.

River. Bubbling. Flowing. Peace. Slow hiss of coals whisper. Crickets. Such mantra.

Gila – 5-22-13

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