She finishes dinner, scuttles down

The steps of her old Victorian home

And bounces eagerly down the antiquated ghost town’s street

To her Canyon


She ducks carefully in

Through the blackberry brambles and wild, yellow roses

Weaving around the lanky apple tree

Whose bowl-like branches often hold her close and high


And there she is

Meandering lithely through her Canyon

In awe of the place that is

Only hers


Nibbled leaves on the bordering Elm trees

Abuzz with the sounds of Japanese beetles

And the silver fuzz of blooming sagebrush amplified neon and glowing

The tang of its aroma ever-present


Rough and golden dustings of dirt

Covering the layer of dark, reddish clay

Slipping granules and pebbles

Under her shoes


Cotton candy hues of periwinkle and blushing pink

Imbibed in the setting summer evening

The tints of nature

In her overflowing heart



Angela Lehr, April 2016