medianoche en el valle del sol

 

 

the close of march—

the phoenix rose,

petals burning—

 

you caught them

with damp palms,

rubbed them lime-light

 

on my skin,

sipping salt

from the spoon

 

of my throat,

drunk

on the moonshine

 

margarita of spring

 

 

© 2025 jennifer wagner

Mountain Music

 

 

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

 

Word Garden Word List

dVerse Poetics:  Personifying the Abstract

(life & challenges/trials)