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  • Writer's pictureSam Baker

eye of mockingbird

The wild flowers I planted are dormant or dead or became part of the food chain. I thought most if not all were lost but I have hope. I found one bold bluebonnet. And if there is one, then as Emily says, hope is the thing with feathers.

Now that the rains have come- around where I planted, but not where I planted, the fields are red with flowers. Mostly fire wheels. There are some yellows. Some whites. The whites are mostly Dandelions with their papery pedals and spikes although some are daisies. And with the rain came hail. Some large enough to punch through a tin roof. Which splits. So not exactly holes. But fissures. That may be because of how metal is formed. Maybe it forms in metal lines- like soldiers in formation. I don't know.

Fissures in the roof from grapefruit size hail. It has been that kind of spring. And fire wheels. Lots of fire wheels.

like choreographed dancers

fields of firewheels

swing to a 14 mile an hour 4 beat

south east wind

traveling to Clovis

or Four corners

or even

Grand Junction

on the Utah line


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