None of your experiences prepared you

for this. Although stunningly familiar. Familiar, as in a dream. A place where you are from. A language not frequently spoken and yet you know the timbre of each syllable, the hue of every vowel. From this day forth, you will eat only vibrant food. Walk with quiet feet.

The inside

of most things mezmerize me. Especially flowers. Especially fragments. Petite poems are fragments and pollen.

Burnished by sun

Or a piece of jewelry. Or a wall hanging. Rubbed smooth & eager to spin. Reminds of petite poems. Yes, those the ears might call home.

Largess of the desert

and not where you might expect. 21 miles north east of San Francisco. Are these blooms more beguiling because they thrive for only several days? However, memory prolongs them. Meals live in memory, too. For instance last night's roasted salmon with mango salsa. Poems live on in the speaking of.

The tree of life

She comes in many forms. Permanent with intrasatory blooming. Rememember to mark your calendars so you'll see her next year when she blooms.

Never forget

Dreams are lanscapes. Please. Please never forget, rocks are precious and unique.

Under the watchful eye

of a succulent. Did you know succulents have beaks? Well, you've been informed. Sometimes life is immediate and simple. And quite intimate.

Returning

Returning to a favorite downtown cafe. Late afternoon coffee and a sweet. How I love the landscape of these copper tables. Moon and desert comingle. The shadow of a thousand crows. Next time, I'll remember to ask for a spoon.

A tongue of pollen

Which way the wind blows today, from which direction the rains arrive, it is assuring that the delicate will survive. The delicate will be carried forth for next year. And the next. This thought is comfort made tangible. Comfort in plain sight.

The desert is dessert

for the senses. For feet. For the sweet passing of time. To resculpt muscle memory. Each rock, a particular language. A precise ancestory.

Gone but not

forgotten. Those branches and my eyes connect to keep the memory of flowering cherries alive 365. Ironically, I can't remember a single poem of mine straight-through but can pinpoint the location of flowering cherries, irises, lilacs and such.

Over-the-top

Pure magic. Pure joy. Similiar to what's occurrening at farmers' markets now: over-the-top abundance. Right now, Bancroft Succulent Gardens is a feast of petite and not-so-petite poems bursting with shape and texture. This flowering zucca nothing less than organic eye-candy.