I am filled with Jacaranda Blues

so much so
that impromptu lilacs
rush my mouth at all hours

Even my hips are imprinted
and my words fall like satin notes
from Nora Jones guitar

flowers and wind
together opened the afternoon’s veins
spinning a light purple cover over the ground

and that’s how
I came to be imprinted with the Jacaranda Blues.

I painted the elegant bones

of our Saguaro a phosphorescent green.

I wanted to give our deceased cactus an incandescent voice

a definition & a place.

One that would speak to the natural grace of all saguaros

living and dying

in this particular desert
& in all the nomadic sites

where only hunger & terror reign.

Ocotillo blossoms perch like
scissor-tailed flycatchers

while
La luna ascends

y la canción del guitarrón
melts among Palo Verde strings

that bind

A Mourning dove meets me on the roof
glancing right
                    then left

she scatters arid sunlight
with plaintiff coos across

the yard

she let's the Spanish tile warm
her belly
and waits

she waits
until long-stemmed grasses
summon her
to fields

No thermals yet

vultures perched
on a few telephone poles
                along the frontage road

not minding
the soft drizzle
                spread like a dirty windshield
across the canyon

hunkered down

hardly preening

Silvia Scheibli, Rio Rico, Arizona