A breeze whistled
as it lifted off
the canyon trail,
the sifting of dust
settled upon our shoes
with every
left, right
left, right
imprint.
Landmarks of fuschia-
colored cactus flowers,
there is beauty in pain,
if we get too close.
The scent of rain
on our hands
as we rub ambrosia weed
between our palms.
The day’s light gurgling
downward towards
the curving horizon,
the promise of a changing
landscape, jutting boulders
play chameleon from sonora
clay to desert rust. Emerald shrubs stitched high above
where the snow water
melts. Pan’s child-like
melody dances near
the Big Horned sheep’s
new born as Primavera
kisses the basin
with rattles of sidewinders,
a venomous reminder
we are just visitors
where the red fire ant
carries the weight
of humanity on its back.

…

Vincent Calvarese artistically has been published in poetry, fiction,  non-fiction and visual art. A San Francisco native,  he now calls Coachella Valley his home as well as his muse.