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