Orange birds shining in the night sky guiding lost sailors among oceanless cities
Birds following the last blue moon of the Mayan calendar
City of golden wheat whispering forgotten poems with tornadoes of fire in between
Poems that grow on branches of the cottonwood tree and spread their sounds
In waves of dark green prairies, our oceans of wisdom, our ancestral voices
Lost buffalos, lost sailors following the blue moon in open skies of the night
Lost hearts following sounds of wisdom
Beating hearts looking for freedom in the green prairies
Blue moon you left them standing alone
Green ocean of lost sailors
— Xanath Caraza
The Coop: A Poetry Cooperative 