In times of quiet
the low hum of air conditioning units on tiled roofs and bungalows becomes an invitation before the morning call of dawn bird.
The spirits are free to come down from the woods out of the Great Mountain. Softly they might appear on the deep desert floor.
You might just catch a glimpse of a winged one
when time stops.
A bounding shape-shifter leaps into the long evening.
Mesquites guard a shadowy panorama-what was that?
Songs of the ancient ones.
Hush my child, your guardian is ever near
in the glistening mid-day sun and underneath your eyelids at midnight.
Reach out with your fingers, I am here.
My shoulders are strong and you may rest your head between them
as you are still young-no bullies live in our neighborhood
where mixed skin tones and gathering souls honor the four directions, the four colors.
I am telling stories before you dream.
There now, you are safe.
You are a reverie
born to the peaceful ones.