What everything seeks

White Silk

Owl’s query is over. Sun pours
out what everything seeks. I sit
between illumination and en-
lightenment to discover what all
of this is about. It’s this simple.

Dawn-pressed coyotes range
through the oaks, nip and chase
as the horizon pushes up what
sends them scumbling restward.
The day bends but is not broken.



Hawk claims her acre of sky;
rabbit stays low with wary in
her eye. Soon shadows move
the day across this brief terrain.

No sign of night; no sign of rain.
California winter curled at her
warm breast as she mothers a
green land. There is white silk
on my lips from where I stand.

Joseph Gallo
January 6, 2010