coming into view

the first saguaros,
ocatillo,
mesquite and 
prickly pear
as seen out bus window
coming into view
while heading south on i-17
and the unnammed phenomenon
that has perhaps already been named by me before

of how good it feels to know the names

of things growing around me
because of how it helps me feel connected to place and,
it turns out, knowing/being connected to place
is a powerful/important thing
_______

the darker blueblack of the rough edges (like torn paper) of one ridgeline
up against the lighter hazey blueblack torn edges of the
ridgeline further behind it
and the lighter deeper blue of sky above, sometimes striped white with cloud
and the long stretch of juniper-dotted land
leading to where the ridges rise
_______
how she says she doesn’t speak english
when i ask if i can sit next to her
but yet we spend most of the two hours talking and laugh-nudging each other
in the simplest slowest spanish and english
and how i say it’s perfect
(by it i mean, the edge where our language overlaps)
and how we hold our phones out, sharing photos (my finca/granja y arboles y jardins and her casa y esposo y hijo y perrito [roque] y mama en mexicali y trigo [wheat] a su mama’s casa
and how her name is carolina and how i explain hills with my hand motions and how she explains quail with a little gesture to imitate that special head feather and how sometimes we just laugh when we know the words and how after two hours, though the spanish is slow/simple, my brain stops working and how she says dios los bendiga and i say new years wishes in my funny spanish and how she says my spanish is better than her english and how i’m all yeah right and how she says dios los bendiga how i invite her to missouri and how she says if i lived here we could practice spanish/english together
_______

all if it was grown in my garden rachel says of the food she brings in
and sets on hazel’s table
(which includes: chard, turnips, and garlic)

_______

the marbley purple-white pattern
on the camping/sleeping pads
rachel pulls from the back of her car
to loan me
and how we marvel at
the layering of this year upon last year
something about how time marks things
something about how we can almost overlay this year this time on top of last year this time like transparencies
something about how there is still a humming between us

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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