The Palo Verde Trees Beguile Us

The Palo Verde Trees Beguile Us

The Palo Verdes Trees Beguile Us

we come to the desert seeking sun, the kiss

of honest conversations,

a swollen river of memories

our stories arrive with us, tagged like luggage

I take a solo walk in the mild morning,

pluck a red blossom and tuck it between my breasts

Firecracker Blossom. Drought resistant.

I squat in the shade eating peanut butter crackers

Alone. Not alone. Alone. Not.

hummingbird drops from the sky, hovers,

we always travel together, somehow

I’m startled by a wren

emerging from a hole in the cactus

by an ache for a time that is both before and after this one

by the storm that creeps over the mountains

night falls with the gentle calling of an elf owl

we celebrate under the full moon

I remember things I want to say

my heart-sisters declare the Chardonnay’s too sweet

 

Maybe our stories aren’t the same?

We could write them down

words laid bare like river rocks in complicated spirals

I never saw that storm coming

the girls are calling to the bartender for more wine

does it really matter, who went on that ski trip?

or what was the very last time I saw him alive?

aren’t the losses just part of the landscape?

consider the long life of a saguaro

despite unpredictable precipitation

even an old woman can dance her way to the bar

Published in  September, 2021 in

Flee To Spring, 

An anthology by Wingless Dreamer Publisher

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