Nature loves to hide
        stopping on a trail
                I spot a horned lizard

that, stilled near my shoes
        against the rubble
                of sandstone and quartz,

blends in; heading uphill
        I mark a budding
                pincushion cactus

and tips of piñons
        greener after rain—
                the green of trinitite

holds a trace of the tower;
        an observer remarked
                the heat at twelve miles

before I reach the run
        of pinecones down a slope
                a coyote, head turned,

tail bobbing, traverses ahead—
        was like opening
                a 500-degree oven

below the overlook I stop
        where someone set
                rocks in a semicircle,

and cupping my hands over
        invisible flames,
                gaze up at black black stars.