Mexican Hot Chocolate in Santa Fe
We squeezed in tight to a semi-circular booth
Held Court in a Tilt-a-Whirl swirl
Placed decorated talking stick in our prize elder Suzanne’s hand
Tales of Monastery seclusion following the Rio Grande
Listening to river’s wisdom as the rise and fall of rapids talk story over patient rocks
An Aristocratic transplant to a high desert commune
Sparse clothing cave dwelling silence journaling a soul’s surrender
Fried food spicy hanging red hot peppers on porches remind us who came here first
Deep words lie waiting in a tiny blue book set atop the toilet
Recovery’s wisdom keeps it simple on the throne
Early spring in the high desert confetti snow descends in airy puffs
Chilling bites sting like a scorpion’s tale
We thaw weaving stories in and out of ‘where-we’ve-been-and where-we’re going’
Was that our last good-bye?
I picture you now eyes closed sitting composed doing your inner work
Cards align and wrap you gently in your tribe’s blanket painted with many stories
Wisdom murmurs in silence and gives you time and space as you seal a life
as sweet as a cup of Mexican Hot Chocolate
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You make Santa Fe come alive, but no more alive than the poet here.
Thank you for your affirmative words . . .