My Rock
By Pat Mora
Summer’s ending.
I sit on my desert rock, listen
to the world’s hum.
Crows and ravens caw,
finches and sparrows chirp. A dog barks.
Can I face
the halls of judgments?
A breeze strokes my face,
brings me back to spiders
and lizards busy at their chores,
private conversations—
sights and sounds I savor.
This earth, my home.
High on the vast blue canvas,
clouds curl, float.
Taking a deep breath, I gather myself.
I bring what I am.
