The sun folded by cottonwood leaves
Falls out in little patches.
Dried thatch in the western wind
Rattles awake the desert folk and

>From the mountain's cache, arroyos
Brighten a lonesome land where
A coyote's song summons evenin' time.
As the sun snuffs its candle and

Enkindled eyes appear, they,
The moon and ghosts will be my guests,
Sitting in the shadow of the stars, awaiting
The sun to rise and begin again.