Arizona Winds
The wind swirls mittens
in Monument Valley
across ancient horizons
carrying beats from The Old Ones
breathing in and out the land.
At the Grand Canyon,
the wind carries many
languages of the people
who come to peer into the past
carved deep into the future.
But when the wind comes
pushing into Phoenix
bringing a haboob dust wall,
I don’t think I care for the wind–
no, not very much at all.
Made to Last
Back East, where the Great Plains
meet the Mississippi and beyond
things grow without restraint.
Watered or not, they abscond
clawing atop each other and
racing to the sky– just so fast.
In the West, where the sky domes the earth
our dry dirt says you meant to be there.
Nothing and no one grows here
without effort and care.
We grow slowly, as if
we were made to last.
And so we do.
Maryanne Frederick splits her time writing at her Phoenix, Arizona home and at a mountain cabin in Northern Arizona. She feels most at home in the woods. Maryanne believes everything has a story to tell but it’s what we notice that helps to grow us. Visit her at www.maryannefrederick.com