Benevolent Mexican Morning
Over my shoulder, the waxing moon smiles,
and a ranchera floats its notes
from the radio on the fisherman’s boat.
This morning the kiskadees
trill their singing right above
the bench where I sit,
my back so near the lake,
that the little waves shushing the shore
sound as if they are beneath my feet.
The mountains in front of me,
so close, too,
rest the procession
of their shapes and shadows
in the early sun.
Rains are still a month away
but at the bottom of the mountains,
the Primavera tree
heaves giant yellow clusters to the sky.
©Susa Silvermarie 2021
