Spiny cactuses cover the hillsides like fir trees.
I gaze. Oh my, why so many?”
A girl from the Pacific Northwest who’s used to seeing the hills covered with dark trees.
Stares upon the glowing mount, lemon-covered in thistle-like cacti.
Warned by the group, don’t walk out in the wild.
Some cacti shoot out arrows at you like natives angry at your intrusion.
I reached out to touch the sharp thorn.
But instinctively, I pull my hand away.
The once-a-year bloom is so pretty, so elegant atop the thorny crown.
Against the dusty darkness, it brings a sense of aliveness.
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