Buck Moon

Today a full moon rose above the mountains, casting shadows and beaming stars straight out of the sky. I sat in the desert chill looking for shooting stars but it was too bright and no wishes escaped my lips. We climbed to the top of one of those mountains today, ten thousand feet in the air and all the world at our feet; I breathed in great big gulps of air and let everything go, including the way you felt like, woven into the side of my chest. I sailed down the mountain after, my fingertips running against alpine flowers and the desert surprisingly green. There are no falling stars, no fou-leaf clovers,

But sometimes there is a desert breath so deep, it makes true wishes you didn't even know you had.

And I'm counting that one as a win.