6-26-16
9 am and the moon hangs,
half-cocked
in the morning blue.
Over the fields of sage and
Geranium viscosissimum,
its light purple a lunar echo
in these canyons that fray from
green to silver.
Their colors are echoed in the
breasts of the cave swallows,
and the rock doves.
The moon is here because
one is still looking,
and appreciates the extra eyes.
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