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| Anais Berland |
Before the McMansions …
we trekked the coastal hills,
one ear cocked
for a diamondback’s rattle,
eager for adventure
and the sight of Pacific blue.
Our campaigns were planned
in a tumbleweed fort,
perched at the rim of the grand gulch.
Leadership was accorded by age,
and unquestioned; rivalry
between genders and siblings
temporarily abandoned.
We staked claim to the gullies,
digging for quartz
and fossilized shells
from the sea’s ancient journey.
Our youngest scouts
stretched out their arms in flight
and ran reconnaissance
over the scrubland, their screams
flushing jackrabbits.
Friendships extended
beyond the horizon.
And home was a coyote’s song.
© Mary Kipps Enjoy other posts by Mary Kipps HERE.
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| Mary Kipps |
Mary Kipps enjoys composing in traditional forms as well as in free verse. A former Pushcart Prize nominee, her poems have appeared regularly in journals and anthologies across the U.S. and abroad since 2005.
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