This is a letter to September,
to warm days & cool nights.
One with the full moon behind it,
and a blessed harvest ahead.
A letter to ember leaves rising,
and black-branched trees to come.
To the green carpet still beneath our feet,
and to the broken confetti of late fall leaves.
I am the veins of red rock,
The humble silence of an energetic mediator,
A bird of prey over the vast extraterrestrial
Landscapes of this world and the next,
A desert’s souvenir,
The ripples of Light’s dance,
A jackrabbit’s race,
The jagged writing of a car ride.
Thou art God.