Looking out the window at a huge ocotillo sending
it's long thin brambly arms into the sky.
Only one branch of it is still holding onto a
brilliant orange spiral blossom.
Looking so beautiful, inspiring this mere poet,
all other arms have dried out and are dead brown.
Once before, blossoms were at the ends of the
ocotillo's arms, overlooking the dead ones.
Still seeing the beauty of this wonderful and
tantalizing cactus as I gaze upon it's splendor.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nature captured so well in words.