we play all day beneath
heavenly shade of
cottonwood

 

     cotton drifting down
     in swirls of manna
     from above

    warm breeze glimmers
    sunlight and shadows 
    of tree leaves across us

we sit on the small
wooden bridge, dirty
jeans rolled up to

our knees
water from Carlota’s
acequia rushes beneath
 

us to her orchards of

peach trees
further downfield brown Parciantes
 

fling seed giving birth to dry fields wait

for a share of compuerta’s small flood
we have spent our entire lives under
 

this vast moving sky, in this mountain’s wake

waiting for our share, waiting for the rain
waiting for monsoons, praying they will come
 

if you have two peaches, you only get one

if you have one, then you only get half
waiting for our share, two half suns
 

sweet juice rivulets down arms, receive

our share, then fling the pit back to God