Red, White, and Blue
In early March, the toyon berries hang
in embers, fading under pale explosions
of ceanothus—a froth, a kindling,
winter offering itself to spring.
We walk beneath their intertangling,
unsure of this season in our lives.
Then overhead, a scrub jay passes
suddenly from bough to bough,
for that one moment hidden
in its own allegiance to the sky.
—from Rosing from the Dead (WordFarm, 2009)
Photo Credit: Amanda Sparkman