Vermillion Lizards

Vermilion Lizards

(“Now it is planted in the wilderness, in a dry and thirsty land.” Ezekiel 19:13)

The paper thin clouds were vermilion lizards crossing the sky,
every memory was gladiolas and hibiscus, yet the
present story was saguaro and milkweed.

Turning toward the only breeze we can find
and stepping across undefined stream beds full
of pebbles; the parched taste buds of drought

A dehumidified sigh is lost among the rusty squeaks
of hawks tracing, dot to dot, a rabbit’s trail as the
shadows grow longer and supper is served.

None of us want to sound ungrateful (some of us do,
I wrote too soon). Some of us remain so fateful
we cannot admit the cracked lines upon our tongues.

But, when the past seems emerald and greener,
when our wishes outnumber the days allotted,
when we long for rainy days and play-school friends,
even in the desert, when we empty our pockets
and place the dust upon the end-table of our existence,

God, let the desert please us, as it must please you;
as fully created, cared for and crammed with color
as the East Bay Hills or the Northwest Harbors.