Tangled twisted heart,
Tumbled down the road,
Like a scrappy skein of yarn

Knew to ride the gutter's trails,
To weave past boots that stomped and sneered,
Huddle in the cold, hide during hail

Stolen away its many days with the trash and weeds,
By rough desert winds, past red dust clouds,
Snagged and snipped on spindly trees

And with a thud, it hit at once, the ground,
When, with its last exhale, the wind withdrew
That I, left between terracotta clay rocks and budding anthill mounds,
At last looked up and saw, a sky so exceptionally blue