I’ve stumbled miles of sandstone, clay, and chalk
soils, stalked Bardenas Reales to gaze
at Castildetierra. Could I talk
to you, I’d cite endless night sky ablaze
with Milky Way’s swarming plague of fireflies.
The cabezo’s flecked silhouette rises
among them, peak a howling wolf. It cries
out to the lonely, easing our crises,
reminds us we're never alone. Only
we can hear it and understand, recall
what faith requires, and act; choose what bones we
gather along this desolate path. All
this I’ll share when we speak. And more. We’ll kneel
in prayer, stare at stars, feel what winds reveal.
Roger Armbrust
September 2,
2013
