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,