i must remember the beautiful things:
the phoebe in the cacti, dancing arm to arm.
sun-bleached rabbit’s bones, evidence of coyotes.
flash flooded creeks and winter rain; the desert headed into spring.
raven, black, carrying red baubles.
lavender in the neighbor’s yard.
a lover who carefully transfers a bee from my car window to the safety of a nearby tree; the same love who will catch a daddy long legs in their palm to bring her outside.
the wet stamp of a dog nose upon my cheek.
text messages from my brother about comic books.
the fact that i’ve been nearly nine months free of domestic violence.
the blessing of a wedding between friends.
the soon-to-be-human growing in my sister’s belly, perhaps brought into the world of the living close to my own birthday.