and he hanged for a long while this promise between peaks while I could still conscience his morning face whipping off the purple night from his eyes he pressed two fingers to yellow lips and kissed me the day then warm shadows and lover birds sang praise with me: "all to us you are, yellow sage, our facets gleam your reflection" and he hanged for a long while in reply as fathers do — written from atop boulders in Joshua Tree, Spring 2023