You cannot hide from this storm
of life raining through you
with no end in sight.
As you crisscross the city on foot,
looking at feeble December
while it’s still sleeping,
you see it: the fiesta spirit,
the spirit of collaboration.
Don’t sit idle, let your fingers
spread the love of life,
as your eyes do. Feel it too,
according to where
your body wants to be.
Give it all you’ve got,
for an approaching storm
wants to augment your reality
with every click of a bird’s nest.
Swivel your hips wherever
you want to go and take
your bread machine whether
you subscribe or not
to its nightmare of fire.
Go for it, famed shoe thrower
from way back. Don’t forget
that your season of despair
releases a pink bee that
won’t fix much of anything.

Cliff Saunders has an MFA in Creative Writing from The University of Arizona. His poems have appeared recently in The Wayne Literary Review, Pedestal Magazine, Mojave Heart Review, Pinyon, San Pedro River Review, The Main Street Rag, and RipRap Literary Journal. He lives in Myrtle Beach, where he serves as co-coordinator of The Litchfield Tea & Poetry Series.