Dorsía Smith Silva

Walking up the arched trail along

Camelback Mountain in the burning sunlight,

I pause midway to wipe the dark brown dirt and sweat

onto my red paisley bandanna

and lean against the chiseled rocks framed with Gold Lantana

and Valentine Bush: how the flowers rise into their place like

fresh linen flapping in the wind.

Beyond, there are the purple mountains,

shifting shades in this early morning’s silence. And far above

me, the velvet sky slides open to an endless edge.

I am still: watching, waiting.