by Nicholas Bradley
Not the end of the world but the onset
of another. Not the withering of grapes
and vines but a pause before the deluge.
Not the breaking of earth, not desiccation,
but retreat and introspection. Not wine
but cellars. Not words but thought. Not flowers
but the spine of the unhurried cactus.
Not the beginning of sterility
but a long peace while the rain condenses.
Not divine punishment but call to prayers
in the high mountain temple. The yucca’s
patience. The divination of sandgrouse.
— from Juniper Volume 2, Issue 3