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.