Wind tonight
moving through the grass like a prayer
while the moon has taken up
position between two palms
and looks ready to wander.
Any midnight pilgrim

would follow the compass needle in his heart
to the mountain trail that rises
until there is no mountain,
only the footprints between the stars

of those who came before them.
They left when it was time,
when the jaguar told them
about the lost moon
that came too close to Earth

and was caught in a tangled mesquite.

David Chorlton has lived in Phoenix since 1978. He grew up in England with watching soccer as a major part of life although he has managed to move on to other interests since then, including reading and writing poetry. Read other articles by David.