The desert wind
changes everything.
You sing
in dead limbs.
In desolation
what is living
Seems more alive
for silence to speak.
Still too much
dust to overcome,
Too many blossoms
calling for bees.
New frogs
in landing squads
Run from algae nets
across the parched ground
Chasing the scent
of roses.
What it is
can't be chased,
The thought occurs
to elude its capture.
The insects swirl
eccentric centers.
The thought of abundance
is earned by trust
And taken away
by doubt.
There is no other equation,
though it seems
What can be taken
fails to yield.
The same spring breeze
that tells us
We can't have tells us
we are loved.
Hummingbirds like cataracts
fly near cactus yellow,
On either side, a hunger
unrequited,
And that, not
where it ends
Is what the light, the final
friend, desires.
The glow becomes
almost visible
Like what rises in our blood
and moves our hands.