In the light of dusk
colors emerge
to sing the desert red
while hot mango sun
sets on swaying hips and
embroidered satin
smooth and singing
as the Latin tongue.
Dark hair and eyes
blend the night
and the tap of the dance
into sunset ribbons
and ancient songs
passed by light of fire,
step by measured step,
grandmother to son.
From cave to village
a city has grown
as our children turn the world
to the crowing of the cock -
And we dance and laugh
as the bougainvillea bloom,
weep and grow old
as the sea repeats her tides.
And the heart and mind
can never forget,
for time has worn rivulets
deep as arroyos in the coyote hills.


Jan Olsen