Trail of Yes

We are blue trail
treading on berries
of juniper, fractured

branch, bleeding sap,
anointed air. We are red
bud cactus flower explosion

between stinging needles,
and golden lichen on
the gnarled stump. We are rattle

of raven behind white clouds
and whiter still, we are sun-bleached
deer bone signature

of the lion’s night prowl
that makes hairs stand
on their ends. We are footprint

echoes on wet, black earth,
wind from beneath the precipice
and a changing sky before

the rain. And we are
porch swing, screen door open
chord guitar music,

first star strumming
half moon rise, and we are yes,
and yes, we sing,

for the many bright and broken
colors, yes, we sing,
there is living to be done.