Rushing into rhythm’s feelings of this moment, watching
as they appear and move beyond the silence of another
Outside hearing the lonely whistle blowing in and out
of the entire atmosphere, rallying around the beauty of
this darkened night.
Moon shining above while innocent stars twinkle, blink-
ing at those of us looking above, wishing that somehow
we could touch their perfect light shining upon earth.
Warming up as rhythms keep moving, reaching heights
all the while that life is taking this poet out and up
at the outset of Cold Front playing in the night.
Hearing that lone whistle blowing the entire time, en-
joying sounds made as it travels through the desert and
up into the mountains where very few find their way.
Wildlife never has any problem just being themselves,
pushing forward, taking time as it comes hidden in the
rhythms being coded throughout the night.
Living in depths of music as it takes and grasps this
heart, mind and intellect outside of this brain, select-
ing rhythms as they are being seen across the desert.
Increasing speed, going faster around the mountains all
alone, that lonely whistle still blowing late into the
night, belonging all the while to this poet’s mind.