Methodist

the old coyote fence
opens her dirt road
to her low 
adobe home
to her hens and rooster
her crowing coop
or her napping cat
on the verge of her
cool portal

beware of her dogs that bark no more
scarred bark broken limbs of her broken willow
dead beds of her unremembered flowers
hum of ghostly bees
drum of the raw
and scolding sun
her photograph
of scolding souls
the methodist

it is hers alone
to place her mild graces
sunny day hymns
in her flowering vase
her bright air
fragrance of her
brightest
but
veiled
window

jppestana november 14, 2016