Three jackrabbits chase each other

round and round in circles,

three butterflies spiral together

low to high,

three parcels on my doorstep

wind, sunshine and shadow,

half a breath from where coyote trots by.

No holding the movement, we break open

to change.

Clouds scoot over a mountain in the north,

I follow their calling

back to the land of bone. Back

to a land of three.