One Sunday morning in Chihuahua

            Today, one tiny cloud, like cotton, freed by the wind

                        Passed over Chihuahua;

            An explorer in search of new worlds,

                        Mapping the dry crevices below,

            Eyes fixed on any rare gems that might flash

                        In a glimmer of sun.

            If it were the Concourse on High upon us, I would say

                        It was seeking out a chosen soul in the desert;

           

But this was a lonely little cloud,

Like a scout sent looking for water,

Its own life soon scattered into thinner strands,

And left the pale blue sky empty

Above the entire world of Chihuahua.

           

                                    -May 19, 1985