Mimosa aculeaticarpa var. biuncifera
Catclaw mimosa
Mike Cook
Quiet Witness
I have grown up As his spirit rose
With these mountains And flew away
In whose rugged shadow We have helped
I am hugged The laughing children
Season upon season As they climb here
We have shared To find their spirits
These rocky places And their songs
Sheltering each other And watched them
Through winter’s desolation Jump through clouds
And reaching long green fingers up To catch their dreams
To find each new spring sun We have blessed
Softly blowing kisses The frisky pronghorns
To the mesquite and the juniper Feasting on my bounty
The oak and the piñon And the elf owls
Who are our brothers And the nighthawks
We have whispered secrets Who have born my seed aloft
To the moon The field mice and rock squirrels
And taught the wind The rattlers and coyotes
New dances Have been welcomed
We were old Into these safe arms
When Oñate walked here And warm hearts
Laughing at my prickles Our roots run deep
Catching in the heavy sleeves Our memories stretching far
Of a fat old padre’s cassock Across the ageless desert
And conspiring to hide Peaks and valleys
The warrior Turquoise skyline and
And his painted pony Gold horizon
Who stood frozen, watching And holding hands
We prayed with El Ermitano We raise our faces up
Who clutched To treasure
My pale blossoms Each new day
~~~~~
Mike Cook grew up in Deming, New Mexico and is an NMSU graduate. He is a writer for The Las Cruces Bulletin weekly newspaper. Cook loves the Organ Mountains and Las Cruces theatre.