Tumbleweed Howls

Night.

Ghost town.

Distant lightning portends shadowy life.

Tumbleweed meanders empty street.

Coyote howls, turns into woman running.
Desert hotel looms ominous.
Old woman enters top floor room.

Dust and sand swirl up stairwell,
across plank flooring,
shrouding woman's face before mirror askew,
reflecting lines of furrowed harvest,
plantings spent.

Changes dress.
Walks into watercolor painting.
Ascends mountain.
Woman disappears in clouds.
Picture frame closes around.

Eyes burn through gray shrouded peak.
Seeks out ghost town below.
More lightning.
Shadows dance between buildings.

Tumbleweed advances.
Climbs to mountain top.
Rests beside woman.

Picture frame re-opens.
Woman steps out.
Tumbleweed accompanies.
Woman lays atop bed's bare springs.
Tumbleweed joins.

Coyote howls.

Door opens.

Sunrise appears.

Coyote climbs atop springs.

Woman cradles weed and animal
chanting a warrior's lament,
dream's reality exposed.