Moonrise, Hernandez, New Mexico, 1941

waiting for rain, for
wind to blow the leaves
white, the dust from
adobe, from graves

men wait in front
of their houses

twist leather and
sage brush

chili peppers dry
even at night,
crosses gleam

the men dream of cool
moist places

women soothe babies
in a wind of pinyon
and Joshua Tree

remember stories of
a great grandmother
who walked naked thru
the corn to make it
grow, the moon’s
lips on her belly,
hair