I don't know what I expected when I opened this creative painting, and so when I felt a smile spread across my face, I knew I had found a wonderful word gem,

I am gifted to have stumbled across this work that speaks of of California heat and the land and landscapes and the past and pain and sweat and hopes and what is no more and what is to be made anew. In this era of victory gardens birthing freshly in the midst of pandemic food supply chain shortages, reading these musings from the dust of a desert breadbasket turned verdant (oft' turned back desert), these poems are perfect ponderings on the porch after a day's labor. Because that is what the reading feels like, a cool beverage in the heat of day's ending. It is loss, and gain too, and other landscapes.

"we are the linguists
mixing the ancient tongues with the new so the future understands the past
instead of the past and the past and the past the language of intellect is barred
marred now by the anti-elite"

It is said that poetry is the food of the soul, the medicine that quietly stretches the true part of the being and stealthily cracks the ego's rigid casing. Here is a wonderful short book of poems to ignite new thought and grant a moment of meditative focus.

I only wish it was longer. Recommended.