One of them chuckles, teeth barely showing,
jaws tight as if guarding unspoken secrets
buried in the throat, while the other throws
back her head and chortles, mouth open
to the heavens as though urging every luminary
to brilliance unseen by spirits of the day;

A stilted gait belies the expansive soul within
the first and the loose-hipped one knows,
provoking by example, not taking life so seriously
after all, it’s okay to meander off-course,
the divergent path of Frost’s two
while a trail opens wild before her
unlike alien glass doors in cities imbued
with roundabout redundancy, not pondering
or questioning why and how
while laughter rings again and is not hollow
but full and deeply throated like the gutteral cry
of ravens relaying messages across the pinons.


~ photo of pinons taken with 110 Instamatic film when we lived in the high desert of New Mexico, 1991




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