thunder rolls like giant trains, an old dry laugh across the plains; fleeting forms and golden flames. an unnamed peak. a single sigh. a passing of the by and by. now shadows named alone by light, sing their songs once more by night; as you and me and the old grey owl, sit and wonder why and how; between the was and is and might, the here and now come squeeze in tight, to gossip of the coyotes tail, the flustered flurry of the quail. Oh ho! you want a story old, round fires bold, tonight is told. this too passes, this too stays. yet absent darkness there are no rays. salute the dawn and cheer the dusk, the gift of time, lived heart to husk.