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an old writer and his words

A writer explores the hidden corners of his mind.

Day: April 11, 2018

April 11, 2018

HIGH DESERT DREAM

The mountains rise, bluer
blacker than real
against a faded sky.
The ancestors have fled these hills,
no orange eyes stare out of the night,
no voices of the trickster
take up chorus against the stars.

Dream, God, Native American, Nature, Photography, Poem, Southwest, Time ancestors, Coyote, hills, mountains, Native American, stars, Taos, Trickster 0 Comments

Louis Faber

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