On Hold

The sun has stalled
beyond the far horizon. All our representatives
are busy helping other customers . . .
The last star sparkles on a bed of dark wishes
. . . thank you for your patience. An errant wind
blows up and down the wash, runs
across the surface of the pond,
and hisses in the palm fronds
as they glisten
in the street lamps’ glow while the desert wants
the drought to end . . . please wait
for the next available rain . . . Nose to the moon
a coyote calls
the darkness down
to Earth. It does descend until
becoming thick enough to stir
and soft music on the line continues
with ice on every note. If you know
your party’s weather dial
now . . . The traffic lights
in Heaven are on red. Unspoken thoughts
collect interest where they rest
inside a mind. The silence is broken
when a woodpecker taps
on the moon. If you wish to make a call
hang up and try again . . . The crystal ball
that holds the future

David Chorlton is a transplanted European, who has lived in Phoenix since 1978. His poems have appeared in many publications online and in print, and often reflect his affection for the natural world, as well as occasional bewilderment at aspects of human behavior. The Bitter Oleander Press published Shatter the Bell in my Ear, his translations of poems by Austrian poet Christine Lavant. A new book, Unmapped Worlds, featuring older poems that had suffered neglect, is out from FutureCycle Press. He recently took up watercoloring again, after twenty dry years.