On days like this cool, with little winds desert birds forage for sticks they build nests perched in cactus some build green in palo verde trees always I think of baby birds in spring hatchlings, the fledglings that fly I travel far beyond the noise of towns watch the movement of cooling clouds the roundness of rain upon the ground the grey banked scurrilous skies of hurried birds, their silhouettes before a storm daisies that close, cold amid the stones beneath where snakes and lizards go slither and crawl in this landscape of saguaros and I, ever tethered can only dream to fly.
I have just moved and will be without internet for 4 or 5 days, except for on my phone, therefore I am unableΒ Β to respond to each and everyone of you, beautiful poets - but know that I am ever grateful for this HP sanctuary and for poets everywhere.