REVERIE of SAN MIGUEL de ALLENDE
| The valley stretches peacefully ... |
| guarded by the oval ridge of stalwart mountains. |
| San Miguel attaches itself, clinging all the way |
| up the eastern slope, clutching rock ridges, |
| with maze of colonial cobblestone streets, |
| century-aged churches, and varied hues of |
| terra-cotta Mexican buildings. |
| I perch ... wild and high - an eagle in her nest ... |
| my window, my desk, my narrow rock ledge, guarded by |
| aged iron terrace rail ... ablaze with hot crimson |
| blossoms bursting from my jungle of crumbling clay pots. |
| Morning |
| Sunrise creeps up behind me ... |
| magically sweeping with golden brush the upper |
| ridges of the mountain ... a glittering streak ... |
| as if to say, "Wake up! I'm here. I bring the day!" |
| Evening |
| The bold majestic range beyond my valley |
| deepens purple-black. |
| I gaze toward the edge of the world .... I fancy. |
| God's fiery globe slides gently ... dropping |
| downward to rest behind God's wall ... while |
| twilight twirls her twinkling skirt ... as |
| night slips on the day's discarded dance shoes. |
| This cherished place ... my San Miguel de Allende |
| How could I possibly be here? |
| How long will I live on this Eden-cliffed mountain? |
| I'm like a woman who is afraid to give her heart completely, |
| fearful of loss .. anticipating the pain of tomorrow's "good-bye." |
| Today, I breathe wise counself to my heart, |
| "Release your ribbons of love ... wind them about this place |
| hang your paintings on the waiting walls - |
| succor your garden ... and sing your melodies with joy. |
| God has surely hollowed me ... |
| lifting my fractured heart and life to this mountainside sweetness |
| where ever-changing beauty speaks of creation and eternity. |
| to muse serene ... sheltered on cool garden terrace. |
| I listen ... focused and content to live this precious day and hour - |
| ancient walls and winding paths ... the very earth and sleeping souls |
| whisper ancient secrets to my waiting heart |
| allowing me to pen on page ... |
| to capture in my humble way ... |
| My Reverie of San Miguel. |
Dallas Beth Williams Gibson