Poetry and Photography by WT Davies


(In some cultures the word animal does not exist)

Spirit Moon
it pulls and
shakes my marrow
The earth moves
turning day to night
Dreams of trees rooted deep
fly by
Stone Canyons wake from sleep

Secrets that lay
in the still the deep

I listen to songs that spill
into the silver night
Songs of crickets
a night owls hoot

I wonder at gravity,
everything--nothing -- dust
As planets pull apart
and line up as they must

When the moon rose
a night bird cried
the lone coyote called

Their cries as sharp as a knife
cut the night sky
to my very marrow
rattling bone

I felt the ancient pull
and howled along