Gratuitous Sunday Poem

(I love the word “gratuitous” — one of those ambiguous words, like “cleave,”
which hold multiple contradictory meanings until you put them in context.
In this post’s title, of course, gratuitous isn’t wearing its uncalled for or
unjustified persona; it’s meant to connote something like unasked for or
freely offered, since I seldom post on Sundays anymore.)

Just encountered this lovely bit in today’s edition of the Writer’s Almanac e-newsletter. It seems to fit, on a June Sunday on which the temperature threatens to go into triple digits for, like, the fifth or sixth straight day.

Rendezvous

Let’s meet in Santa Fe
where we can stroll holding hands
along the acequia madre ^[1]
then sip espresso
at the bookstore on Garcia Street.

Let’s meet in Santa Fe
and bask like lizards
on the rocks at Bandelier ^[2]
or explore the secrets
of remote creek beds.

Let’s meet in Santa Fe
to share our stories and let
the whisper of cottonwood leaves
fill the silences between.

Let’s meet in Santa Fe
and eat posole with our eggs
and laugh, and love, and turn
the calendar to the wall
for a few brief days.

(Ted McMahon, from The Uses of Imperfection)

________________________________

^[1] The acequia madre — literally “mother ditch” — is an old Spanish-era irrigation canal in Santa Fe’s east side. See desert11sailor’s excellent Flickr photo gallery, from which the photo at the top of this post comes, for a walking tour to put you in the mood. (If you need help, I mean.) The Writer’s Almanac misspells the first word as acequina, which as far as I know doesn’t mean anything at all. (No idea how McMahon spelled it in the original — can’t find it anywhere online out of its Almanac context.)

^[2] “Bandelier” is Bandelier National Monument.