Clearly New Mexico

In Atrisco spring contemplates descent from the treetops
The wind still blows cold, touching the bones in all things
Autumn's last leaves congregating wherever landscape provides purchase
Half-hearted cold lingers, wandering blind toward its own demise
The last of the long sleeping, the gradual inhale before the call to life
Atrisco, reclining lover asleep beside the restless river, wake up