The Cahuilla Village site again, late March, days past equinox
flowers at twilight, dry, dead mesquite wood for the fire
potsherds, walk carefully, and flashlights for the possible rattlesnake,
yes, they are already out, it's been warm for many days
7 weeks ago, after winter wet storm, early February full moon
we were also here, working hard to start a fire
wood was damp, the soil moist, the night quickly grew cold
moon boldly full, coyote parties circling us, full throat
Last night, mustard grass weeds in front of the fire pit
and a stick insect, first one I've ever seen outdoors
we rescue him from the heat, in our hands, handfuls of stars
cupped by the dips of Santa Rosa Mountain Range
the north side of Martinez Canyon, ancient traverse of Indians.
These, some of the most rugged mountains in our state,
full of wild canyons and angry cactus, as if they say,
all you people, go away, this is the land of 120 degree summers.
Fishtraps nearby, and we site on a huge pile of sand, old beach,
ancient Lake Cahuilla, sleeping circles here, dogs howling
from cluster of nearby homes of Torres Martinez Indian Reservation
on the other side of the earthen dam, lights of Indio beyond
a nice way to spend a few hours on a Saturday evening
before tiptoeing back to my friend's ranch, the long drive
down Jackson Avenue through the last of the 100 year old
date palms crowding the narrow road almost to Hwy 111.
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