North of Santa Fe

sprouting through clay was of its being
beaten but glorious as it emerged
the creatures eyed the slender stemmed
virginal flower
absence of voice they turned to the light
death & life is woven through such flourishing forests
as leaves flutter in aspen chimes
a melancholy opera north of Santa Fe

she might have heard their song if not for dancing hope
she carefully bent down in her thin hippy dress
swollen with life's purpose
to the small delicate flower
purple souled
she was charmed
how lovely
how small
what an exquisite little bud you are!

brushing her lips
he placed the bud softly behind her ear
enchanted hearts wrapped in southwestern mystery
you will still be beautiful at thirty-five
whispering hair to heart
& she pictured them
with the child
in a forest tree
away forever
in
love

the leaves sang
louder
longer
insistent
but they were dipping their hands in shallow water
ringed
linked
she never heard their mountain warning
royal flower in her hair

you always see the small things
he told her
but today she saw only vast blessings

& tonight
child grown
she can recall
white bark stretched to golden heart leaves
how they screamed
but
she would change not a thing
not a moment of that day of New Mexico dreams


nsj
February 11, 2011