San Miguel, N.M.

The long night
moves over my walls:
inside a candle is lighted
by one of my daughters.



Even from here I can see
the illuminated eyes, bright
face of the child before flame.

It’s nearly time to go in.
the wind is cooler now,
pecans drop, rattle down—

the tin roof of our house
rivers to platinum in the early moon.
dogs bark & in the house, wine, laughter.