When the Sonoran Desert reminds me
of you, I praise goldpoppies igniting
low rolling hills with blazing memory
of your goldpoppy braids, dunes inviting
images of your bronze curves smooth flowing.
I pace thick mesquite forest, recall your
eyes when you wear dark green, the wind blowing
echoes of your laughter. That time we toured
Santa Rita Range, you quipped and mimicked
Elephant Head. I cherished your dancing.
Now the sun glows saguaro to rose, tricks
me to see blackbirds with yellow heads, sing
your favorite sad ballad. I gaze deep
at the far range, bless your profile in sleep.
Roger Armbrust
September 9, 2014
