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Frida Kahlo’s Dresses

I fly to the desert to see my first friend and to bake the remains of winter from my bones.  I purchase thunderbirds to keep me warm.  I climb Echo Canyon, my heart reverberating back to me a true sound.  The red stones are worn smooth like the steps of a cathedral.  I wonder what it is in us that makes us want to climb to the top of things.  Saguaros bear witness, their insides plucked out by cactus wrens. I stand at the edge. The wind makes the hoops in my ears sing. Red-tailed hawks circle me.  A yucca shoots a spike of yellow blossoms to the sky, I must remember to do the same.  Below me, the desert blooms like Frida Kahlo’s dresses.


Posted 04/26/17
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