Untitled #poem

Listen to the wind – the land has tales to share:

The gray clouds and passing birds

The softness of the deer’s ear (trapped in time: death)

The storms gather over the black sage desert and sweep to the high hills

Gone are the roving tribes of yesterday

Replaced with towns and farms


Stories told by roll of hill and the wind’s wild vibratos,

Echoed by the magpie’s chatter and the crow’s caw

New roads scar the land and hold it down

Who are we to trap the land?

Note: I posted a draft of this poem a few weeks ago.

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