I wrote this on our way home.
shadowed mountains on the skyline
soft morning in the Mexico Sky
dawn breaks with a rosy peach
unbrushed teeth and a hasty goodbye
the dust shimmers around me
Black coffee and Red stones
Sage, like the brush in the deserty wind
dry, like the bones under my skin
and we drive North
soon I'll hear the creek-bed chorus
from my porch
aching blue above the winding canyons
gives way to black dirt
and cloudy skies
and we drive North
the screen door slams
on my porch
the rain on my roof will find the beat
thunder on the kick-drum
Dancing Feet
home
photo by Hope Autumn |
photo by Hope Autumn |
photo by Hope Autumn |
photo by Hope Autumn |
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