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Mojave Spring - The Petroglyphs
by Ed Bennett

There are no clouds today,
just a dry breeze hustling out
before the climbing sun;

motorcycle weather,
me, in a helmet and T
to catch the road and roar
until punch in on Monday.

Keep it simple on the weekends.
Ride out to the creosote
or the foothills –
just go
until the blacktop stops,
ride the gravel
and pause
to watch a roadrunner
or hear an unobstructed wind.

It was quiet in this way
when the Anasazi stalked,
ready for the late spring move
to the bare Sierra spine,
like the running wind
two steps ahead of summer’s heat.

Using desert varnish
to mark the symbols
on the rock face
ending with the mystic mark:
a splay fingered hand
pressed to the sandstone
in a reverent “amen”.

I pass this way, too,
my desert brother,
our lives and families mingled
in the hard pan and the dust,
and when we are gone
the next ones follow
on a cool spring morning
beneath your ancient prayer.

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