the way the northern new mexico sun
lands on the snow-branched trees and
the curves of the adobe buildings that
line the streets we march along,
the way its light moves through the fabric
of flags and banners waving
in the lilts of wind
_______
how it gets me everytime:
simona’s sign that simply says no
and the O is topped off with an illustration of
a certain yellow orange combover
lifting in the wind
_______
the people who
look at my sign and say
i don’t! i don’t consent either!!!!
_______
the person on the white/gray horse
picking up the rear
holding a huge red flag
high that reads
not my president
_______
debbie asking me
as the view opens around us
while we head north
and pointing west
which mountains are those
and i respond the jemez
to which i am applauded approved of
and it is like moving through some door
on the path of this informal apprenticeship
about learning the churh
of the land
_______
how we hand the logs off
passed like buckets of water
for fighting fire
from the stack to the cart
and the radiant warmth that results
later after debbie
builds the fire
detail collector 