image of golden Mexican poppies blanketing the Franklin Mountains in El Paso, Texas from fineartamerica.com
poem submitted to “Engage the Senses” poetry contest, Natasha L. Scragg, sponsor
Sight arrives first~ a spill of Mexican poppies like molten gold across the the Franklin Mountain foothills, each petal swaying in the desert’s slow exhale Hearing follows~ the soft hiss of wind threading through brittle grasses, the faint click of stones shifting under my boots, and somewhere far off, a quail calls reminding me solitude is never truly silent. Touch wakes next~ sun-warmed air brushing my arms, poppy petals grazing my fingertips like small, shy flames, and the gritty pulse of the trail pressing its story into the soles of my feet. Smell rises gently~ the clean, sharp breath of creosote, the earthy sweetness of sun-struck soil, and the faint perfume of wildflowers lifting from the fields as if the desert itself had decided to wear something soft. And taste~ unexpected, but there all the same: the mineral tang of dust on my tongue, the bright edge of heat settling in my throat, the flavor of a landscape that asks nothing yet gives everything. By the time I turn back, the poppies glow brighter, the mountains stand closer, and every sense feels a little more awake~ as if the desert has quietly rewritten the way my body senses to the world.
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