Blossoms of L.A. - Palo Verde

Blossoms of L.A. - Palo Verde

By Armando Ortiz

The palo verde 

rooted along quiet urban streets,

spring brings blossoms 

that vibrate with a glowing beat.

Bright green tips

bursting with yellow flowers,

making a delicate veil of lights

a bouquet for the eye’s delight.  

May mornings shaded by gray skies

the sounds of hummingbirds gives rise,

While these trees reach up to touch the air,

rising from front lawns, behind houses.

Rows of green protect avenues

others stand alone in open spaces,

some planted at street corners,

decorating the city with pulsating halo.

Winds clash- east or west breeze,

Or perhaps cold waters 

touching the arid coast will prevail

pulsating traffic might make it sway. 

Under desert noon, the trees grow vibrant

With Lemon yellows and lime greens

evoking thoughts of cool lemonade,

refreshing beneath the sunny day.

Native palo verde

rooted on this land,

gifts the city blossoms 

that vibrate with a growing heat.

A Quiet Retreat: Free-verse Reflections

 

A Quiet Retreat: Free-Verse Reflections

By Armando Ortiz

I sit here along the coast after a thirty minute drive on Pacific Coast Highway, lying on the sand, watching the waves roll in, each one bringing solace.

The crashing waves blend with memories of hiking the Sierras, where a cool breeze touched my skin as I prepared myself to enter the alpine lake. In the deepest silence, as the waters pulled back, a tiny mosquito pierced my skin with its sharp bite. 

Lost in thought, the crashing waves transform into a gentle rustle of aspen, pulling me back in time. The memory intersects with the present, where the sounds of water and breeze become a delight. 

No need for kegger parties or psychedelic nights; just nature’s embrace heightens the senses, offering deep insights. This mid-July heat wave intertwines with every other summer breeze and every tiny insect that takes flight. 

A single mosquito stands as a buzzing reminder, its bite added to my life's itchy welts. Palm trees and cottonwoods wave gently at the endless stream of people, serene spectators to the flow of life.

If only my tent could transform into a permanent retreat, a place to watch sea lions surfing the dawn’s first light. Or a home nestled among oaks and pines, their gentle shade shielding me from the afternoon’s oppressive heat.

High on a hill, where no buzzing mosquito will dare to exist, a refuge of tranquility. Back at the coast, the sand scorches beneath my feet, but the ocean’s blue embrace offers a cooling reprieve. 

Who needs a retreat when nature’s wonder is just a few minutes away?