Amy Michelle Mosier

I see the green of the desert

I see the green of the desert
That overcomes the brown
Clinging to ground and water

And with gentle affection
It might reveal some color
Like a yellow persuasion.

I feel the fermenting sun
Calling out the vultures
That fly with a heart of one.

It heats a beautiful hearth
Of brown quartz and white granite
That swears of Nature’s wealth.

I sense the black jaguar’s stare -
Eyes that have a thirst for blood
And those teeth - a gnashing lair.

I smell blood in the wind
When death captures its prey
And in birth when life tries again.

I hear the cicadas’ buzz
Drowning in humidity
As thunderheads growl above -

Billowing, creeping steadily
To the hour of their rage -
Covering the path of a coyote.

I taste the kindness of plants
Of palo verde, jojoba -
What nutrients each grants!

I spy the purple mountains
Blending in with their shadows -
Not knowing where either begin.

They tempt my spirit below
To their crags and lonely peaks -
To secret places I know.