As bare brown feet dance for rain,
a wind stirs the distant leaves.
I move lost as usual
through the slow everyday tasks,
as if it is some place new,
some place I have never been;
a place that rises from the dust
of drought-dry caliche roads.
In between where we are, and
where we were in history,
I move against the dark sky
and watch clouds form like old maps
which leave space for new monsters
to thrash in violent seas.
subtext 