I promise him everything—rivers, falls,
Lake Saguaro—but he sniffs and turns away.
Weeping and pleading, I follow him
across the mesa. I fling my arms
around his hollow neck and he becomes a snarl
His teeth are salt and heat has shrunk his eyes.
All he needs, I can give, and still
he hurtles into the yellow wind.
Image: Detail from a painting
@ Louise Craven Hourrigan
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