Poetry in Sonoita
Reflections on life in a small town, and an occasional poem.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Under a corrugated morning sky
purple spikes flutter to life.
They quiver on perfect silent wings
in an effortless jazz ballet,
kissing flower, branch and blossom.
It is all they do, the sacred mystery
of single purpose creatures,
faint brushstrokes on a summer canvas,
moving the air, transforming everything
into light, weightless and faultless.
They live in transparency, feed on fragrance.
I press myself inside their world,
to be lifted here and there by a mere breath,
to feel powerful with divine intention.
I want to live in a flower.
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