Now I know
the loquat tree

It's almost a song,
the echo of a song:

on the bat's back I fly
merrily toward summer

tasting the citrus,
peeling back the sweet skin
of March, sundowning outside

street lamps in the hills
above us, new canvas shoes
and baseball caps to honor one another

the grills billowing
moist heat in the night
we can watch it now

in full wonder,
revisiting the desert
at the hottest of times

relishing these epiphanic
entertainments and her fruits.



songs to survive the summer