Mournful howl of coyote—
In nature, I am audience,
to a multitude of languages,
not my own.
Mocking squawk of woodpecker,
sweet morning song of thrasher,
yet, when I pay attention,
with all of my senses,
without expectation
or judgment,
the comforting fragrance of sage,
covert glimmers of starlight,
secure warmth of sun—
I come to understand.
© 2025 Bruno Talerico
Stafford challenge day 18/365
Desert Dweller 