first summer

no michief on this glorius summer day in may
the seasons are as alien in this land as i
transplanted into the harsh light
vivid colors and a clear sky
see myself clearly here
a wetlands heavy hearted girl
watches the land dry to dust
knows all is illusion
sends o'odham prayers on the wind
for good rains to come, later
in the other summer season
when what was is recalled
temporaral seasoned reality
memories of the mountain past
trickle down, collect to flood
then are gone
exposing washed bones in arroyos
bits of lives collected as sediment
lay buried until time cultivates her fields
exposing patterns of life and death
tilling fertile fields
offering the dust of what once was
up to the firmament on the winds of first summer

19 May 2001