Nature loves to hide—
stopping on a trail
I spot a horned lizard
that, stilled near my shoes
against the rubble
of sandstone and quartz,
blends in; heading uphill
I mark a budding
pincushion cactus
and tips of piñons
greener after rain—
the green of trinitite
holds a trace of the tower;
an observer remarked
the heat at twelve miles—
before I reach the run
of pinecones down a slope
a coyote, head turned,
tail bobbing, traverses ahead—
was like opening
a 500-degree oven—
below the overlook I stop
where someone set
rocks in a semicircle,
and cupping my hands over
invisible flames,
gaze up at black black stars.
