The Widow Discovers the Secret of Leona Canyon

Before dog-walkers with squadrons of panting beasts
pull up in SUVs, I arrive early--a woman without a pooch
who can be trusted to make a game of counting packets of shit

set aside for some doggie walker's return trip.
I start early, knot a hoodie around my waist,
hiking in the sun I want to lose myself,

balance on a branch of a buckeye tree
with its candelabra of mock lilacs,
walk past hemlock that lace the trail,

everything is a blaze of white
as spring marries summer and loosens her veil.
I dip my hands in water and wash my face.

Anna's hummingbird, with her red crown
and red spotted throat, sips right along with me.
Shepherds follow their off-leash flock up the canyon.

The Widow Rapsodic

The beat is everywhere, but life has to find its own flow.
Jay-Z

Take out your purse and lip gloss this--
Woodpeckers are eating my roof
I'm so nervous--
like a rookie cop on a new beat.

Day after day, I hear them hammering--
a chorus line with 100 pairs of feet--
Friends say I should join AARP.
What for? To get a discounted rental?

I dial insurance for the interview--
Each time I look out the window--
another shingle bites the dust.
My life's savings are going bust.

The agent on the line whines
there's nothing he can do to stop her--
assumes the bird's a she and not a devil--
But do I look like some Harry Potter?

Like this is a video conference
and you could really tell.
The bank refi is not going well.
Rain washes out my eyes

with a new vacancy rate--
I watch my furniture float away--
drive by a fork in the road
and decide to go straight.

Blue, Green, and Red

Freeze-dried memories
dissolve in the waves
along Highway One
and turn blue, green, and red.

Blue for the times
I ran my finger
on the sharp edge of love
and stayed quiet,

green for the passion
that blooms in Lorca
and grows in the city
between pavement blocks,


and red, red that burns hot
like a soldering iron
that pits soft skin raw
to join sandstone with hurt.