The Mansion She Inherited

she lives in a mobile mansion

inherited from Hopis in New Mexico

built with sugar cane and cinnamon

decorated with yellow flyers

hanging all over the wall in the dining room

blue stairs are one-way only toward Sirius

green, two-lane highway toward Orion

the curtain, knitted from butterflies’ dream in cocoon

windows open to the scent of Chaparral

she irrigates the field with a cup of coffee

filled with organic memories of her ancestors

non-GMO flowers growing in the backyard

are the only weeds she needs to crop

Rootless

I saw a man
stood still on the edge
of the George Washington bridge.
His feet rooted into the river
and his hands offered birds
a resting nest but the man
was just a man and the bird,
just a bird. His roots,
taken away by the stream
and birds weren’t patient
until the spring ushered.

Garden…