The sunny pleasures of cactus blooms,
brighten aged gold, and sunset rooms,
Like sunbirds flitting in purple plumes,
once dusk has known many perfumes.
Prickly cactus blooms, orange sun gift,
Also enjoyed during the dawn red shift.
Denizens of golden gritty sand, hottest,
creating dunes where the wind is swift.
Dry logs redden and snap;
The fire is soon impressive.
The wolf moon takes better shape
As night begins to settle in.
I watch the conflagration spike;
A spark flies off, then others
Like the universe had coaxed them
To become one of the stars.
Intense thirst in the sweltering desert,
yet, the emerald succulents still thrive;
for surviving, often takes extra effort.
Intense thirst in the sweltering desert,
Then cool moon arrives, as if pressured.
A beautiful, flowering cacti night, alive!
Intense thirst in the sweltering desert,
yet, the emerald succulents still thrive.
The beauty of the scorching hot desert plains,
Is evident in turquoise skies and blooming cacti,
And at first unlikely glimpse, the memory remains,
Long after cherry red sun has left the evening sky.
Blooms of pink, red, orange and every other hue,
Provide lush charm on the sweltering desert sand,
And the occasional traveler receives a fervid view,
A sight that commands one to pause where they stand!
Come, graceful brittlebush
And creamy globe mallow blooms.
The winds of spring call you
Again from the sandy tombs.
Come, you dashing lupine
And join the wingnuts on the hills.
Go and place your annual stake
With them near the trails.
......
I know a place of silence
Where one can roam about -
Touch the height of peace
And watch the morning crown.
It's a place well-hidden -
Where no worry survives -
Where no thoughts break in
And living hope abides -
Where seraphs may be found
And joy is my raiment -
......
Dusty roads take me out
To the furthest reaches -
To places not thought of
Way off highway stretches -
To the rocky vales where
A lonely thrasher calls
And scarcely people hear
His excitable songs -
......
Dry logs redden and snap;
The fire is soon impressive.
The wolf moon takes better shape
As night begins to settle in.
I watch the conflagration spike;
A spark flies off, then others
Like the universe had coaxed them
To become one of the stars.
Color my small world -
Oh, fair Yeshua -
With a streak of globe mallow
Inside a rocky draw
And the morning calm
Of bergamot and lupine -
So I can stop time
And set my gaze upon them -
......
Rather than talking to walls –
I’d prefer a saguaro
For the wisdom they know.
Centuries – they come and go –
Leaving mysteries unsolved
And the traditions Loss mourns
Told through centenarian eyes
Could straighten crooked lies
With some persuasion – surprise! –
......