Barefoot along the dusty arroyo
above the deep painted river canyon
the brown robed Jesuits
walk in prayer.
Early morning shadows
move across the red dirt and agave.
A rabbit sits watching
the sun arc over the Sandias.

Morning rays light and warm dry chapped skin
The golden hour stirs. The blood and breath rise
Cliff swallows alarm as the falcon glides
past their home on the canyon wall.
Crackle of far off thunder foreshadows an autumn desert rain.
Hair on the skin rises.

This is where Budhha is. In this moment of hush, light, earth and sky.