Sunday, December 13, 2015

cibola chasing spirit (trip poems)

heading through Cibola,
feeling groggy,
worn out,
no rest from unforgiving
rocky ground

with tired eyes
I glance out the window,
there I see a dog,
black and white,
she raises her head from the ground
chasing the car as we drive by,
running along side,
tongue flapping in the wind
in a joyful expression,
we eventually drive
out of range

90 miles later...
after refueling our bodies;
the standard JCB
breakfast stop,
we exit the diner,
head back to the car,
that's when we saw her,
in the back of a red truck,
the Cibola Chasing Spirit
basking in the sun,
she recognized us
popping her head up
giving us a friendly,

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