The landscape is the same – pecan groves

standing tall & surprisingly green in still water.

Behind their military lines, an uncombed rockfield tumbles toward mountains.

While I cannot paint you a picture, I can grant you this 1,000 words …

= = = = =

I am eating the burrito with a silver teaspoon

To better take in the smother of green.

My tongue burns on both sides tho deep breaths help

There is laughter coming from the cafe

Where no sparrows have arrived to beg at table

= = = = = =

The napkin across the plate

waves white surrender

my lips tingle with heat

The sparrows arrive to begin their search

but I assure you there are no flakes from my plate!

(Aren’t we all searching something?

Even one crumb?)

A Monarch arrives, testing the marigolds,

accompanied by his court, two white tinies

performing at his pleasure, a twining dance.

In the presence of this royalty I write.

Among couples intent on each other, I sit alone

at the only red-clothed table.

I write, forgotten, as I so love to be,

I write.