Passion For Vashon

Stored it all away in Arizona

all eight years of saguaro sonnets

weathering a climate that turned my veins

into a personal thermometer of beige and dry memories

glorious sturdy cactus blooms that opened after sunset

YES! Those postcard sunsets!

There were gila monsters who lived behind the rubble against the side alley

the chatty coyotes, two of which sounded like a dozen

the geckos who practiced physical fitness doing their daily pushups on the patio floor

the inca doves cooing and posing for my camera

the late afternoon quail, one following the other in elegant headdress.

And when the moon was new, the galaxy unfolded above like a canopy of magic

thrilled that the sky would come with me and the desert remain in my heart,

 I dreamed about this sweet Island where sunflowers smile against the air clean and moist

filled with sounds of cantankerous crows, the sandpipers and seagulls near the ferry docks

the fertile earth pushing up it's works of art for the farmers to share

For the love of contrast, I could use a Vashon Island now

though I have been warned of Winter ahead.

They say the rain will come relentlessly, but that does not scare me away,

because I have a passion for Vashon!