The calendar on the wall kept watch alone
for one thousand desert winters
and one thousand desert summers.
Faithfully measuring out the seasons.
The rabbits and rock doves had their own calendars.
The coyotes took note of every moonrise.
Lizards were thankful for the morning sun.
Years passed, stars fell and crickets chirped
but no one watched the calendar.
Someone once kept a holy vigil.
They watched the calendar and the changing seasons.
That was long ago and for reasons we can only guess.
Things change slowly here in the desert. One can lose track.
Was it a secret place? Was it a sacred place?
This space of discourse between sun and stone
was witnessed by a silent scribe. Watch closely…take note.
Each morning was important – day in, day out.
The morning sun sent its dagger deeper, striking out the
old season and bringing forth the new.