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.
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