Cherokee, California
For now even the Sun
Scorching in his sulky ways
Sullen and moody
Soon will expire
His fiery fingers slacken
On the length of days
And Night reaches out
A gentle hand
Imperceptibly soft and cool
A dewy caress on a burnt cheek
Though the fireball rages still
In the advent of his repose
Among the twinkled lights
Messengers from distant realms
Anoint a pair who slumber
Illuminated in a candle’s prism
The essence of argan radiating
Sweetness and nectar
Released from heated stones
Refreshed by Zephyr’s breath
Under the deepened heel of Night
A blade of grass is crushed
Unlike the knife steel
Struck on Tomorrow’s anvil
LiNdA
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