I wish I could see that jacaranda,
Its feather shadows tickle my feet bare
On the plank mahogany floor.
I wish it weren’t a thing to remember
That I saw those jacaranda shades brush
Plaster walls in the prime and silent light
Of a morning passing barely by—
So barely, never minding what happens next.
I wish I could stay in a morning so long
Before the chits of unfinished wishes
And habits the carnal sauces, they
Close the sash on the simply soughing fronds.
Steven Ray Smith