Jacaranda's lilac blush
sultry under a gray
watercolor sky
Four crows in a line
one riding shotgun
cut diagonally through
the late-morning air
In the oil field wasteland
marsh grass bows
away from sheets of rain
a crane contemplates
its wrinkled reflection
Standing in line
on a rainy Saturday
later afternoon blues drifts
in with wind's eastbound rush
fickle storm blunders
through town
The light
flickers in and out
stucco and glass shield me
a wild heart calls
the world turns
as if to look
it's spring
and the search
for love
continues.
from Fire and Rain,
Vol. 1
