the moon hears Coyote howling
across the deserts of time,
minor chords echo
cross each other
and disappear,
there are veils,
corridors of black gauze,
threads of harmony
caress the stars,
the vast passage
of unimaginable lights,
the Shining Ones are roused,
murmuring Summer, fleeting places…
Ahhh, the old yearnings
raised at Their passing,
to hail Them,
to see Them,
under the moon
the Hunt passes by.
