halted, losing heat
their clever song rising, falling
over the deserted golf course.
Lift up and fly
Howling at empty branches, cold air, pearl sky
dying blackberry vines
the pleasure of finding a voice at all
in uncertain times
I live on their land.
There are parts of me never to be domesticated.
They are laughing,
I almost catch the joke
of thinking the wrong things are vital
wild hopeful choral
Life has this way of lasting
Defying your schedule
Singing uncaged defiant
What echoes will be heard the next morning
when unsuspecting golfers
consider dangerous changes
to their lives
Margi Curtis, you wild woman, should have known you would understand! <3
Would love to hear this poem recorded with women and coyotes howling somehow woven in and through it! Thank you for sharing it!