On High Desert
It was a summer evening
the sun had set
we were still many miles
from our camp
in the high desert.
The moon was full
and the cacti shimmered in the pale light
until we saw two eyes
peering from behind the bush.
One eye of the wolf shone fiercely
the other was calm.
We drove on over canyons
and through ancient mountains
till we reached Taos
still connected to its Indian roots
and we saw a temple
to a flying hero.
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