Some reason we
believe
moves and dangles
beyond dry leaves
clinging
into the new year,
this side of the Kaweahs
baring granite teeth—
some logic yet
to focus clearly,
every soul hungry
hunting something
to fill their bellies.
An urgency
in fragile air before
the haze and dust—
a quickening
to our plodding
like old horses
headed home.
What star has fallen
from dark heavens, what
holds the clouds back?
Some reason we
remain to see.
drycrikjournal 