Page the Second


A fronte praecipitium a tergo lupi. (In front of you, a precipice. Behind you, wolves.)

Saturday, April 2, 2016

Spring in the Desert

Today I'm doing a spring poem for National Poetry Month. For an example on how to do one, go here:

Spring looks like rising goathead stickers and a fresh crop of pot holes.

Spring sounds like coyotes hunting a neighborhood pet and palo verdes humming full of bees.

Spring feels bipolar--oven-like one minute, goosebumps the next.
Spring smells like creosote beneath a dusting of raindrops, and the wind sifting through the orange blossoms.

Spring tastes like blowing grit and fragrant oranges.
© 2016 by H. Linn Murphy

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