JOSHUA TREE

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HOT DAYS, STARRY NIGHTS

JOSHUA TREE NATIONAL PARK

7 May 2018

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12:00 noon…

It was hot. So hot it was almost unbearable. With no shade in sight, we sat in the car, making lunch and watching the flies swim through the windows. The car next to us had turned into a rusty black oven. The pasta water boiled in an instant, and evaporated from the dusty sidewalk just as quickly.

small wonders of the day:
halos of light caught around everything, and watching Ollie play the dare-devil with a stick, poking the dangerous jumping cholla cacti.

9:00 pm…

After lunch we retired from the sun, and waited till nightfall to return to the desert. The sunset was purple, then inky jet black, bruised and spotted. I waited for the stars, wondering what animals move in the darkness here. I must admit I was nervous about the scorpions.

small wonders of the night:
an owl on the wing, a silent darkness swooping between the stars…

ROAD TO NOWHERE

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A POSTCARD

SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE

sometime around the beginning of May

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To: You, dear heart.

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Hello darling! We are writing to you from the middle of Nowhere. It is very dusty out here, I think half the desert is in my hair. There are many notable sites - rusty little villages and fields full of Saguaro cacti, many of them taller than my second-story bedroom window. I walked up to one the other day, just to compare our heights, and found myself startled by a small bird that flew from it’s cleverly hidden nest inside the cactus plant.

We spend most of our time driving through these no-man’s lands, dancing to the beat of our own drum.

Sending you so much love from the road…

Zoe (and Ollie too).

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MICHAELA

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. ONCE UPON A DESERT DREAM .

at the Birthing Cave, in Sedona

with

MICHAELA

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She is an Earthed angel

a star seeded

a bolt of lightning

laying the ground bare

a strip of truth

a slip of silk

and then something like the smell of lavender

🌟🌵🌟

it was cool and quiet inside the cave,

in the belly of the earth,

heartbeat of our ma heard

in the rattle of the stones

and a deep silence.

she climbed inside the womb hollow, curled there, listening.

painting her face with gold,

a halo under her green eyes

a crown for a seeress,

we spoke of angels…

of raging fire,

passion thunder,

storm and rain,

all that lives inside soft animal bodies of women.

angels are not always sweet,

sometimes strong

and fierce,

they can be warriors

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