Summer Begins

poetry from the desert in May

The atmosphere of intense, too-early heat led to this poem. The river is the San Pedro River below us. It used to flow year-round.

The Cry

The moon stands high
Above the mountains, which are pink,
And the sky
Is a pale and simmered blue
Which a bird flies through
Between vastness of sky and stone.
For here we are alone,
Ever ever alone
Between the gods and the …