In the Name Of

bless me 
for I have nothing at all 
to confess

unless 

watching a shy sparrow
sinfully splash
in a
small
water-
fall

is
my
sin

also

jppestana

in the name of

5.14.18

Blue Sage

morning begins ends 
in this gentle light

sage filled air

turning curl of her
under a blue sheet
of wrinkled
horizon


jppestana
sage
5.12.18

Known Shadows

a lizard crosses the wisteria's black shadows
freezes in a brilliant white sun on white stone

and the air is full of playful finch bantering
the full flutter of heavy air under their wings
thickly rhythmic pulses in the hum of cooing dove
rubbing leaves
nodding flowers
other birds

this audience of mine confides in me
confides in this breeze softly
that all will be well
that all will be

I want to believe them

then the lizard races back
to the known safety
of its familiar
shadows

jppestana
5.8.2018
known shadows

Origins

my losses gather
in this rushing wind
whisper about me in harsh remind
their wind has etched the sand around me
in what memories survive
and if pain wins me over will this wind
take me with it
take me over this rising mountain
take me to the origins
of my losses
lost spring
of my 
raging 
tears

jppestana
origins
5.9.18

The Ladder

the yellowed ladder
mostly hidden in tangled vines
still drips
from
last
night's
rain

the flaking paint
dapples the wet grass
the wood old worn
mostly split
wobbled legs
almost gone

and when did I last stand on it to look through the sky completely look through 
the cloud of me
stare back 
at a staring moon
painting stars 
with fingers
still wet
from
last
night's
rain

jppestana
5.9.2018 
the ladder

Pink Clouds

are these survivors

from a murder of clouds

or your cheeks reflecting

a mirrored sun

and if you were not here

would the clouds still be pink

or their pure selves 

marrying earth

and sky

and if your hand reached into these sandy hills

would it touch the warm stones

the thirsting flower 
struggling to be

what you are 
to me

these pink clouds

jppestana

5.5.2018

pink clouds

The Oriole & the Honey Bee


an oriole gloriously sits high in the piñon
rocking singing in the yellow breeze
he teases at the only honey bee
searching low 
in clover

amused
I rock in my porch chair
sipping the sweet nectar
running from a
honeyed
sun


jppestana
The Oriole & the Honey Bee
5.3.18