If the Din of Cities Makes the Moon

If the din of cities makes the moon 
shine dimly in the night; 
if the touch of concrete and tin 
drowns the sound of water; 
if the sight of cheap billboards 
masks the fragrance of all daisies 
or the taste of chokecherries 
picked on hot, fall days: 

Put down the basket and walk away.
Stand silent through the blush of dusk,
and later, in the cold of night, 
kneel on desert rock to touch it; 
hear your fingers move across 
its ancient surface—put your ears 
to the rock and smell, again, 
the bright, sharp taste of life.