City-desert nightwalk

Early summer, late at night
Pleasant sweet-smelling air
Clouds veiling a half-lit moon
Scorpius crawling up the sky
Tree-hid birds awake chirping
Lone dog barking in its yard
Startled stray cats darting
Crickets playing insistent songs
Quiet of people gone to bed
Mellow breezes gently stirring
Damp-grass lawns subtly cooling
Street lights too brightly illuming
Saguaro blooms softly glowing

—Terri Guillemets, 2019 May 11th

Desert weeds after heavy rains

Some weeds are nourishing, and some medicinal;
Some are beautiful, colorful, and downright flowery;
And yet others, even those that pop up one fine morning
as the tiniest innocent young sprouts of green…
are relentless, run riot, and are one hundred and ten percent determined as @#!% to @#!% up your @#!% yard if it @#!% kills the @#!% both of you!

—Terri Guillemets, 2019 February 12th

Waiting room restless’ness

What are flowers without the bees,
What of grasses without the breeze?
Nothing the wind if not for the trees,
Nada la quesadilla sin el cheese.

—Terri Guillemets, 2017 September 27th

P.S. This was written in a waiting room at Good Samaritan Hospital in Phoenix, hungry and with a restless mind, waiting to hear from my mom’s surgeon. I guess this is about the best that writing can get when one’s mind refuses to focus and one hasn’t eaten lunch. 😂