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SONG FOR DEATH VALLEY

Ten trillion stars
on this moonless desert night,
each with a rocky twin
alive here on the surface.

No sound but the hush of a tenor wind
from the baritone mountains
singing against my skin.
I let my batik wrap
fall to my hips
to feel its onyx kisses in the dark.

This place was once a seabed,
sequestered below the ancient waves.
Where I walk,
the spirits of primordial beings
circle and whisper.

Valley, you are misnamed.
You are life.
The red heat of creation.
The pale wildflowers of birth.
The dust of cycles.
The stones of eternal continuity.