I wish for days of coyote-filled nights
when stars were known and you could hear
slow-rising vapor from frosty hollows
or berries on cedar popping to life.
I long to be held like a sleeping child
with tomorrow’s dream tucked in a blanket
where loneliness ends like a fenceless sky.
I want to build where nomads are free
to roam and war is no longer fought
for oil or water, where howling with time,
is commonplace, the careful stirring
of coffee at daybreak and yesterday’s moon.