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From "Twelve Gates to the City"

 

Bill Shute

 

I      LAS CRUCES, 1 April 1993  

As the dream I

     Placed before me, a rabbit

           To my greyhound, evaporates

 

In the early sun

     Of April, not deferred

            But faded as the heat

 

Rises, hope seems to

     fill the atmosphere, unseen

            Though felt, on that second

 

Horizon I cannot yet see.

 

Son, daughter, and I facing

Three gates to the east.

We do not know how

To enter. Vehicles pass

Us, everywhere movement

 

On over under through around

The highway we were advised

To take. We break

The entrance, the sky

Extends the riverís invitation

 

Onto a higher plane.

I come forth, taking the hand

Of my son, my daughter, breaking

The stallion within, cradling my own

Mind. Let form be sought.

 

 

 

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