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