Catalina Roses

A pitchfork and a wheelbarrow down by the caribou crossing where a crimson colored twilight spills onto the north country... the churning of nature's marrow has me turning and tossing under a cold silver starlight all a-whisper with mystery... so paint me a water-colored fresco where a flaxen sun exposes a time that has come to a standstill waiting like lovers waiting to meet... and I'll go down to Mexico and gather Catalina roses that grow on top of a stony hill and lay these flowers at your feet.