Ocotillo's Tangible Colors Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

An ocotillo standing out in the courtyard, prickly arms
spreading themselves out, stretching in their earthly
roots just to touch the sky.

Benefitting from the sun and being nourished from the
soil of earth and rain whenever it comes pouring down
from the heavens.

Throughout the months of the year, at times growing
full and green, flowering it's orange blossoms, fragrance
of their colors touching my soul tranquilly without effort.

In winter and colder months, looking brown as if in death,
yet just resting in a dormant state, thinking over their
purpose and affairs in life.

Thinking of what it must continue to do in spite of it's
most desirable dreams, wishing to achieve them and knowing
that it will be an impossibility unless it coincides with
what it's purpose holds true to.