ARIZONA POEMS

HEATHROW, IN TRANSIT – By James Watters

The warmth of Nairobi in January is gone now. Here it’s cold and drizzly, a savannah of tarmac and metal jumbos before me. My natural rhythms have given way, to this soaring erratic chase of the sun. But I return to warmth, the desert heat of southern Arizona, and the ardent glow, of my heart when I hold you in my arms.

RIDING MISTY – by Carolyn Devonshire

Though Santa never responded to pleas, there was just one gift on my list each year a horse that could run at the speed of light a bold little gal. I never had fear with two high school friends I visited a ranch to ride in 103-degree heat, through the bramble bushes and prickly pears, upon little “Misty” I took my seat. The Mustang Adoption Program’s success sparked ranchers from Tucson, Arizona to give a home to a rust-colored mare, many miles from my home near Daytona. Cryptic white markings graced Misty’s neck, looked like words in Native American code. “She’s so small,” I whined, seeking to ride fast. But no matter, to the desert we rode, even the roadrunners were envious when Misty gained speed and hit her full stride. Warp speed! I clung to the saddle horn, as Misty passed larger horses with pride. My hat fell on a cactus, sweat filled my eyes. My life flashed before me, quite a surprise it seemed like she had wings as we flew don’t be quick to judge a horse by its size. I thank Misty often for the ride she gave me, she fulfilled my dream and gave me a thrill, but on the news today a reporter said, wild horses would now be rounded up and killed. I’m so grateful I had the chance to ride, a wild horse with spirit and awesome speed, but what will become of her ancestors, misty’s now part of a vanishing breed.

PUMPKIN CAKE – By Sara Kendrick

There once was a girl from Arizona, who could only fit in a kimona she vowed to lose some weight, but loved all kinds of cake, even drawn by pumpkin cake’s aroma, she vowed that she would be stronger would wear kimonos no longer, with cotton up her nose from the table arose, now in leggins she does saunter.

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