Sunbaked mud,
the desert gumbo,
seared and tightened
against our
abundant skin,
gurgled up
and depthless now
from timeworn fount,
arsenic laden,
another with lithia,
and another, iron.
Distant lightning
but only rain in the
next rincon,
as piñon smoke
entrains with geosmin,
the ozone bursting
from thunder cracks,
flooding the bosque
where we lap it up
and eat cake and
trout and chile.
Cliff swallows, diving,
flittered from desert
willow to cottonwood,
catch flies and feed
their nests hidden
in the vigas while
the crow family
roosts among huecos
and creviced sand-
stone bluff faces,
watching us wriggle
and whisper
in water immemorial.