Taos Pueblo by Feroza Jussawalla

Taos Pueblo by Feroza Jussawalla Jim Silversmith stands tall over me In Taos Pueblo as I admire filigree as delicate as the ancient work in my Indian hometown, carved into a storyteller cuff bracelet. Braids frame the burnt adobe wrinkles, braids tied in leather and not with Jasmines. A proud Rajput he, a true MogulContinue reading “Taos Pueblo by Feroza Jussawalla”

The Fading Season by Ken Hartke

The Fading Season by Ken Hartke The fading season — when all the trees have darkened but before the early snow — I build a fire in the grate and find that unfinished book. The new morning chill draws me to the coffee pot. The fire still has warmth. Today’s sky is bright and clear,Continue reading “The Fading Season by Ken Hartke”

Slip Over the Edge by Ken Hartke

Slip Over the Edgeby Ken Hartke Quietly slip over the edge.Disappear without a trace.Follow the old trails.The canyon trails are worn smoothby bare feet or reed sandals.Centuries old handholds are still there. Trails wind down to hidden pools.Deep shade is cool below the canyon rimScorching sunlight is a stranger here.The breeze builds toward the afternoon.ChanneledContinue reading “Slip Over the Edge by Ken Hartke”

Rain in the Hills by William Haskell Simpson

Rain in the Hillsby William Haskell Simpson Were I the rainComing over the hills— I should be gladThat my cool fingers could ease the little fevers of dusty     water-holes,And caress curled leaves of the cottonwoods. The herd,Pawing, bellowing, would let me quiet them,Standing in fresh pools by dusty water-holes– If I were the rainComing over theContinue reading “Rain in the Hills by William Haskell Simpson”

Psalm Above Santa Fe by John Judson

Psalm Above Santa Fe                         16 March 1987 by John Judson What is it we           come to                     between mountains, long crests tipped white,           dusted on their flanks, while                     light spreads out before us,           pouring in our laps,                     soft as iris tongues, and           the lungs finally                     filled with a freshness unwilled           because unlooked for:                     sparse grass, rocksContinue reading “Psalm Above Santa Fe by John Judson”