More than anything – I want to dance;
in a small city
in another country,
outside on the patio
of a Mediterranean
cobblestone bistro – vino tinto and some warm bread on the table.
Break the limbs and let it be new,
the tree of life is ever birthing.
Coursing with vigor and resolve,
and never asking or apologizing.
Emerald beaches, lamplight bubbles,
the hardened soil
walkways weaving between adobes lively with hearth;
and a feast for the wanting.
Greens and yellows, browns and
oranges; oranges and cherries.