Chaco, Chicory and Cholla

I didn't know poetry
Until the cholla pricked me
And the ruin dusts blew
In and out of crumbling windows.

I sipped and hoped for chicory
Until the desert roared and cried
And ground mouth opened wide
Frogs went dancing in the tears.

The thought had crossed my mind
To jump in the arroyo
And ride the water like a boat
To north south east and west.