Who can see
the turn of seasons
in the
blossoms that turn to brown
here in the
desert?
We pick our
way past cactus
in every
form.
Even
guardian Saguaro promise
months of
heat ahead
while palm
fronds wither.
The rocks
remain,
sedimentary
in layers,
sturdy,
persevering.
We return
each year,
snow birds
who warm our bones
in this land
of rocks and spines.
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| "Secret Garden" by Jeffrey Stemshorn |
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