Mountain High

I arrived last night to this village of 9000 feet.

It is still a little cool and the wind is in a hurry.

Nobody else is though.

The church bells control the air

when the burros and roosters do not.

There is always the sound of children

playing and laughing in the park.

The old men are sweeping,

the birds are chirping,

and the Huicholes are setting up their stands.

The village is preparing for Semana Santa.

There may be something new soon.

A not Oz.

Keep your eye out.

And I will be back.