Cactus
 (Sicily)
I never had much luck with
games of chance
(the one-armed bandit stole
my ice-cream cash)
but here I dawn-wake, stumble
into scented light
before the sun's hold
wrestles earth into submission.
A heavy-headed dog pads past
- protects
this hidden night in all the
year when cactus,
tall and branching as a tree,
is starred into a galaxy
of flowers, each large as
hand-span, busy with bees.
Waxy water-lilies nestle
between spines,
like babies held in
henchmen's arms.
Birds brim the air. The
thorny, tangled stems
dressed by fairy godmother
for the ball.
By morning all have closed
and dropped,
shrivelled balloons after a
party, littering
the dusty earth. But I have
chanced on glory
and the world vibrates with
possibility.
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