bending grasses in the wind
a bumpy dirt road, dust
yellow sundial flowers peek
their niche in terra verde
streaking clouds change
mutate white to pewter
arbols loom against the sky
ancient floating pinohs
cavalos graze undisturbed
upon curves of green, gold
cattle call in unison
whip cracks in the humid air
water falls from cliffs and sky
drifts into the depths of a gorge
trees grow up into lumber
and children into workers
rustic chimneys leak smoke
heating, cooking, burning
a boy and a toy are content
if only for this moment
vaca piciniƱo escapes
wanting more than a herd
a horse sweeps its tail
against soft grey hide
corn, palms, fejos, bananas
orange, red, pink, azul
brick and madera casas
corrugated tin, plastic
crops are squares of line
our lives seem to be spirals
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1 comment:
Love it, Meg
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