Embudo Equinox

by Amalio Madueño

first, let there be a soft rain
out of the West, let there be a grey
light in the bosque and the quiet adobe
among alamosa, juniper & piñon
drenched where you once stood alone
absorbing the impossible blue behind
lensics piled above Jicarita Peak

let the ravens sweep lazily across
Cerro Rincón toward Penyasco’s pastures
emerald against clouds from the plains
above scrub oak and bramble breaks
whose essence is adumbration, their bronze –
leafed, twisted twigs filled with sombras

and sábanas billowing slow on the clothesline
teasing the tanagers just down from Colorado;
flat black water in a red olla
splaying sun’s spiral on the ceiling
and a bleary mosca walking on the pane
scribing one more arc in the day
and skittering down to rest — then to lean

back into room shadow and finger worn
pages between the solar pivots of the year,
pacific in the stupor of your bones and
release your mind to Casas Grandes and
the Grán Pimería, Paquimé to Batopilas and
Quitobaquito, then refocus with an Ah!
at chartreuse tendrils of wild plum
in the yard, the heart leaping amable
with each easy sprout from the mind