Promise of More

And though it may be 
dry outside now
there is recognizable
assurance, trusted
suspicion that you 
recognize
the water 
will run again

Yes, you can
smell it
the abundance of 
lilacs in this city 
every year, one 
after another
the welcome 

of heady bushes
purple and green 
against the ruddy
earth, the little 
acequia

the rain.

1130 Miles: Pink Umbrella: Peregrine

if one is uncareful

a turkey buzzard can be mistaken

for a hawk

at a distance infatuation can be mistaken

for love

the sweep and soaring are the same

and the tears at the ending

so years later you

will be hesitant

uncertain

reluctant 

to embrace those past murmurs as a sign of anything more than past