Georgia On My Mind

Today, a Rio Grande valley sky
is her painting,
all endless blue
and cotton puff clouds.

The vista I gaze on
is full up as
a woman satiated
by pleasure.
2 days moistened
by spring rains.
She's beaming.

New Mexico morn
s t r e t c h e d
across forever.
Dry brown slopes to bank,
growing into cottonwood green.

Reservation fields
pushing forth buds of
pepper and tomatillo.

Whistled gratitude
for eternity's etching
upon this face
of our mother.

Waterway arteries
borrowed for seasoning.
The river is high,
spoiling for spillage
on her journey
south.

This morning, this light,
spiraling hawk flight.

I am ancient again
painting on pottery,
smelling growth on
my sister wind.

She carries
mountain stories
in a grain of sand.