it’s a cold, small little corner of the world but i love it so

we breathe, the world breathes, someone hands me a cup redolent with the smell of chocolate, spices, honey

standing in line for a coffee, watching passers-by shiver in the winter air, little breaths trailing up and out, little wisps of warmth and water

the world is this way; lives and places drawn together in a tangled skein. pull gently on the loom and a tapestry unravels to inert thread

it all matters, beloveds

there are no wasted moments

there are no coincidences

on the rim of the Mojave desert, there is a field of saguaros, limbs outstretched before the sun

today, the tallest topples in the midday heat, its innards dry and hollow, ringed by brittle needles

tonight, a man in tucson will pass quietly in his sleep, dreaming of warmth, sand, and open sky

and it begins again