the desert's teeth

I went feral today
the wind in the canyon
  and its cold secrets
move too quick for me to escape
too quick to touch when I want to conduct it
so I pick up feet smaller and lighter
rising with the cold gust’s hands pushing me there
where I don’t intend to
but must go

and the swollen moon added her salt
to the dance
zig zag
I must go

stones dictate in infinite advance
and constant change
my dance this time
and last
all the times before and after

when I revel in the rhythmic god of my gait
I know the power is not mine
it is the stones’
tones that move my feet
make my knees pulse
bring my head this way and
thrum my psoas
lighting my mind so clearly
there can be no thought

dancing downhill
(aided by the wildness of wind and moon)
I thank the stones for their creativity
and the beautiful positions they force my body into
carving our way down the mountain together
so we may dissolve
and return