You old saguaros
still stand, blossom-crowned for May,
and I watch, obsessed.
This poem is a response to a Haiku I wrote in the fall. I have found myself making an effort not to write constantly about my favorite cactus or to post photos as if they were my children, but I had to give in. Arizona’s reputation for having no seasons is belied by the sudden blooming of cactus everywhere. Saguaros wear crowns of white blossoms like May queens and their courts, and below them, smaller cactus bloom in every imaginable color. Since I moved to Arizona, the saguaro has become an emblem of fruitful age. I admit it; I’m obsessed.
As part of my own growth process, I’ll be making a seasonal change and reducing my posts from daily to 3 or 4 times a week. I will be traveling and working on some longer fiction.