When, not if, the trail leads me
to face the rocky Baboquivari
looming with the threat of jaguars and rattlesnakes,
at least it gives the promise
of Mexican Frankincense
in the burning Sonoran heat.
The taunt retreats,
and for a moment,
is a courting lover
blowing an arid, piney kiss
from a ribbon of birds whistling
in trees near the narrowing peak.
These are no mere trifles. But welcome sugar.
Welcome, sweet. And though the bitter
may not be made quite golden, I’m thankful
God made it so that if the mountain doesn’t move,
and I’m going to have to climb that thing,
at least it sings.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
dVerse Poetics: Personifying the Abstract
(life & challenges/trials)