The sky above Armijo Park in Segundo Barrio this past Saturday after rain. Today, in contrast, is an ozone action day.
Last night (all night and early morning) I longed to write poetry. The big moon hovered in surrounding halo and darkness above the adobe house between the cottonwoods. I am free to watch this from my screened-in porch without feeling air, breathing sweetness, or slapping absent mosquitoes.
I will teach poetry this afternoon in the units. The concrete floors, smoothed rocks. Among cinder blocks and in the absence of windows, young poets will write their ways to creation.
It's been so long since I climbed through and scraped my knees on the stucco.