EARTHBORNE ONLINE POETRY MAGAZINE

The call felt deep inside,

primitive,

in the stillness of the night,

ancient as the glaciers,

once covering the earth,

restless the sound, the feeling,

a coyote howl,

or a cow calling its calf,

the hills’ call to me,

a specter in this computer age of impatience,

a spiritual longing,

binding, to a region,

devoid of almost everything,

but space and time,

patiently awaiting, while the cattle quietly gaze,

my trip home.