Did you think I was talking
about the weather?
Since this is Texas,
patience is a good virtue to covet.
A state as independent as its size,
you might expect lone stars everywhere.
Even in the white and
darkened clouds of the skies.
You must be alert, he said,
the variegated clouds can become a Lone Ranger.
The highway into her interiors
undoes myths developed in a darkroom,
To show clearly the stuff of legends;
itself printed on a papyrus.
Myself, I like this part
of the conversation,
The sparks can excite the windswept
faces of immigrants.
The spaces they occupy
are greener than all the muted hopes
of the morning.
Spaces are printed walks of destiny.
And, like our muted minds,
the hopeful morning of choice
is covered in moving clouds—
I am my own destiny,
lifting the veil of clouds to see
what the forecast couldn’t.
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