The vines cling lovingly to gnarled old trees
Still holding hands across the laughing river.
Remembered coyote howls still send a shiver
Up through my spine. The lilac-harp-strings quiver
Strummed by returning robins. Errant bees
Sip nectar from the bluebell cups. The pleas
Of whippoorwill upon the canyon breeze
Retune the heart to love the Master Giver.
(How poignantly these childhood memories glide!)
The honeyed yellow dock conceals the age
Of hills grown old. A killdeer asks no wage
For healing twilight calls. How like a bride
The wild rose lifts her radiant face! I hide
Nostalgic tears, remembering sun-kissed sage.
Chaparral Writers' Year Book
