Mariposa Lily — Image by kenne
THE LAST HIKE IN APRIL
The desert blue sky, replaced
by high rainless clouds.
The brittlebush has no blossoms
nor leaves of green without rain.
Your song little bird sings of love
among the branches of thorns.
Nearing the saddle,
the winds chill the skin.
Pausing at the top, we wait
for aunt visiting from Germany.
Then I took my Nikon to capture
a mariposa lily dancing to the breeze
waiting for the moment the
wind will make a flower of gauze.
One eye, the button pushed as
April goes flying by.
— kenne
Becoming is Superior to Being 
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