Poem: West Texas Sage

Heading into the desert sun,
I tail an enthusiastic storm.
Tires zing on sizzling pavement,
slash through puddles
on the rain-darkened highway,

Like a guardian flanking the road
to El Paso, a muscular mountain
heaves up, sable master of the horizon,
his head silvered by rayed spotlights
streaming through cracked charcoal clouds
like lake water breaching a dam.

I stop to relish the sudden chill,
feel retreating thunder rumbling
my bones, hear breezes sliding over
damp sand, greedy for its moisture.

I sniff the air like an elegant lady
shopping for perfume, as pungent
desert sage, rain-released, drifts
like piñon smoke, like incense, sends
shivers drug-like through my skin.

I gulp the rare essence, reluctant to leave,
store expansive breaths in my lungs
like treasure. The fragrant air scolds,
reminds me gently I’ve been gone
too long—far too long.

To submit a poem, please send an email, with the poem as an attachment, to [email protected]. We are looking for previously unpublished works of no more than 30 lines, by Texas poets who have not been published by the Observer in the lasttwo years. Pay is $100 on publication. Poems will be chosen by our guest editors.