Upon the sun-beaten hills
In the hot and citric embrace of the wind
Under the benediction of the coyote who loves
Sanctioned by the sage and the deer, a quiet
—people without judgement
There dwells the Juniper, Old and gnarled
Arms open in an embrace of the midnight sky
He reaches to the stars in prayer and reverence.
His soft and weathered lips, whispering without
Waiting for the stars to answer back
Waiting for deliverance and absolution
I will miss him, that sad old man who is
Lost in a world of which he is no longer a part and
yet still watches over
You see we are so much alike
My soul and I.